The Jewish Table: Noodle Kugel

For my class, Culturally Responsive Education, I am asked to be reflective with the understanding that truly knowing and appreciating one's self is the first step to understanding others. One of our student choice assignments was to create an Objet d'Art, or a cultural artifact, to represent our heritage and cultural identity. Being the lover of food that I am, I chose to write about and make a noodle kugel. My cultural artifact is more a culinary artifact, and my final product, below, begins to scratch the surface of my love affair with food.

Objet d’Art: Culinary Art

The Jewish Table: Noodle Kugel

For as long as I can remember, my father has been making noodle kugel – for holidays, celebrations and even just because I love it so much. Be it break the fast for Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanah, the sweet new year, Hanukkah, the celebration of lights, or Sukkot, noodle kugel has a guaranteed place at the Packer table. Leftovers (if there are any) are not dished out to relatives, but saved to be eaten for breakfast the next day – “Katie Cakes” gets it all.

As a Jewish young woman, much of my identity stems from my interactions in and around Jewish holidays with my family. Because we aren’t highly religious, my family’s pride in our religion stems from our culture and our tight-knit family, which comes together over the dinner table. Food is the fiber of our family. So excited over pending meals, my mother and grandmother set our Jewish table for the celebration of holidays at least a week in advance. During meals, my grandparents tell stories about our ancestors, inevitably someone bickers and food, which every family member wants to contribute, is abounding. Growing up, I considered myself lucky that the majority of my family lived within a 15-minute drive. Our holiday celebrations during the year include staple dishes like matzo for Passover, honey and apples for Rosh Hashanah, and latkes for Hanukkah, but brisket, chopped liver, matzo ball soup and the kugel are always around.

The word “kugel” means pudding, not like a Jell-O, more like a bread pudding. A noodle kugel done right encompasses many different foods and the relationship between them is difficult to define, which, ironically, is reminiscent of my family. The soaked noodles are intertwined when baked, reminding me of my own family’s closeness and reliance on one another. Of Ashkenazi heritage, kugel recipes are age-old, and my family, from Eastern Europe, makes food in this style.

Noodle kugel never seemed special to me until I began attending Jewish holiday meals with friends. While some parents and grandparents make kugel with raisins and cinnamon, my father makes his with cheese. It’s sweet and dense with a crunchy top and just about the most fattening thing you could consume. Other noodle kugels don’t dare vie with my dad’s, and this is when I realized that my family is different than most. The kugel we rejoice over is unique, just like my family. I am proud to call myself a Packer and identify so intimately with my heritage. My family’s connection with food and my positive memories around the table cultivated such a passion for diverse cuisines that it shaped my collegiate career. I studied journalism and specialized in food writing. Even in my 20s, I still look forward to going home for holidays, knowing that kugel will probably be on the table.

My cultural identity, of course, is not with a kugel. It’s about what the kugel represents – family dinners around oversized tables with folding chairs to fit everyone in. Laughter and love foster joyous mealtimes. Coming together over kugel allows the current empty nests of my family and my relatives to be filled once again to celebrate Jewish holidays as well as our family. It’s a plus that the noodle kugel is out of this world!

NOODLE PUDDING SUPREME

(Dad’s Noodle Kugel)

1 lb broad noodles

4 eggs

1 lb cottage cheese

1 ½ cups sugar

½ lb Velveeta, cut in small pieces

1 ¾ cup milk

1 cup sour cream

1 tsp. Vanilla

¼ cup melted butter

A cinnamon and sugar mix

Grease 11 x 14 pan. Mix first 5 ingredients together plus ¾ cup sugar. Pour into pan. Beat eggs well, add remaining sugar, milk, and vanilla and pour over top of noodle mixture. Sprinkle top with cinnamon and sugar. Bake at 350 degrees for 1 ½ hours.

Just for laughs, my family celebrating in the late 1980's. We still celebrate like this today.

Our table today - so much food we have a buffet.

MexiCAN

With last-minute reservations to Pazo nearly impossible and Peter’s Inn swamped, some visiting friends and I trekked off the beaten path to the dramatically stark, concrete space in the Silo Condominium building, Miguel’s Cocina y Cantina. The space is bumping, the portion size just right and the in-house tortilla chips thick and flakey. Miguel’s Dia de los Muertos, skeleton-inspired décor lends itself nicely to the hip ambiance exuding delicious energy. The juxtaposition of the deeply colorful interior with the contemporary steel structure of the restaurant is just what this cantina represents – old Mexican dishes with a modern flare on flavor.

The open-space restaurant reminds me of the streets of Guadalajara, not Baltimore. The façade of Guadalajara along the inside glances at patrons to create an outside-looking-in feel. The bar, abuzz with happily drunken tequila lovers, served margaritas, tequila shots and other agave favorites, in addition to virginal Jarritos.

The food, just like the gig itself, is an authentic celebration of Mexican culture. Tacos are soft, not hard. There is not a “make-your-own-burrito” option. And don’t even try to ask for a chicken burrito without the spice. Take it or leave it. Hating food too spicy, I munched on beautifully plated, crunchy oveja flautas, filled with shredded lamb, crushed almonds and dried cranberries, giving the otherwise hot lamb a sweet kick. The squash blossom flower quesadilla with grilled zucchini and jack cheese wasn’t huge, but tasty nonetheless. And the pollo huitlacoche, too spicy for me to try, floated atop arroz verde, red chard and mole. It didn’t stand a chance and was devoured quickly. The spicy, green tomatilla salsa and the homemade, smoky mole were a hit with my party. The basket of deep-fried chips and sauces were gone within minutes.

Just like in Mexico, don’t expect anyone, or anything for that matter, to be speedy. The wait staff comes and goes as they please, eventually remembering to fill your glass or bring your food (they did, however, forgot our guac). Even without the chunky avocado, we left sated and satisfied.

If greasy, fast Mexican is what you are looking for, Miguel’s isn’t your place. But if spices – smoky and hot, frozen margaritas and fresh chips are what you are after, Miguel’s can provide your munch…and your hangover.

My end of the date rate the plate: Worth a good forking.

Miguel’s Cocina y Cantina

1200 Steuart Street

Baltimore, MD

443-438-3139

Spring into Sushi

For the first time in a long time, I heard birds chirping. Winter woes wash away with the sun; unpolished toes are making their way from insulated boots to summer-y flip-flops; and finally, the temperature is catching up to the time jump. Spring is here. To celebrate the season of sunshine and fresh beginnings, I craved light, refreshing sushi.

Among the bright lights of Broadway and Fleet, Asahi Sushi in Fells Point, serves fresh fish in a simple setting. The place is bustling on a Friday night with 20-something year olds pounding saki bombs and slurping miso soup. The reasonable prices are at play. In addition to the “hot” menu, a front-back sushi menu accompanied by golf pencils, lists sashimi, riceless rolls, tempura rolls and the more common inside out rolls – volcano roll, dynamite roll and a few more unique rolls to tempt taste buds.

To quell my quaking stomach, I ordered a ginger salad, two rolls and mochi for dessert. The ginger salad, unlike most, was a chopped salad with a tangy ginger dressing. My red and white tuna roll, with buttery white tuna and spicy mayo, begged me to eat it first. I did gladly, without complaint. Without much room left in my stomach, I tackled the salmon-avocado roll, which was nothing extraordinary, but still deliciously fresh. Giving into temptation at the urging of a friend, I ordered the red bean mochi. Its gummy outside filled with tart, yet sweet red bean ice cream made this chilly treat a perfect end to the casual meal.

This no-frills restaurant has the right food at the right price, and they even split checks without you asking. Despite tough street parking on a Friday night, Broadway’s high-restaurant population zone has people moving in and out quickly. Asahi Sushi is not to be missed for fast and fresh sushi. Oh, and it's BYOB...doesn't get better than that!

Asahi Sushi

514 S. Broadway Street

Baltimore, MD

(410) 534-4255

'Bout Time I Boast 'Bout Baltimore

As I make my culinary rounds ‘round Baltimore, I am slowly, but surely acquiring a taste for charm city and its gastronomic offerings. I’ve had my fare share of bland, rushed meals and hyped-up let downs. I’ve even had one particularly awful meal for free! But despite B’more's slow start, I have indulged in some mouth-watering meals and have pinpointed darling date domains, dingy hamburger joints, trendy hot-spots with booze abounding, perfect for girl pow wows and people watching, and of course, a few, unmistakable regular spots that I frequent weekly.

While I haven’t been writing, I’ve shared tapas by cool candlelight at Mezze; split a rack of lamb at Alizee, giggled over gelato and freshly filled cannolis at Vaccaro’s, lounged at Meli while devouring a plate of glazed salmon and found the best Baingan Bharta at Tamber’s, the most unlikely of places for indulgent Indian. I’ve brunched on “She Wore Red Velvet Cake Pancakes” and iced coffee at the famed Miss Shirley’s, sipped sugary sangria at Nacho Mama’s and even relived my love affair with jamon iberico, ceviche and manchego at Pazo. My foodie feast doesn’t end here – along the way I have dined at the in-vogue farm-to-table restaurant, Woodberry Kitchen, slurped garlicky noodles at Suzie’s Soba and toured the Boordy Winery before throwing back some wine and fondue in its 19^th century barn-turned-country-club. Best of all, I grocery shop at Trader Joe’s with my environmentally friendly canvas bag in hand, naturally.

Washington, D.C., Baltimore’s sister city and gastronomic superior, is just about a hop, skip and a jump away. While I don’t visit the Capital often, when I have, my taste buds have been pleased – French restaurants, fresh breads, farmer’s markets and chocolate salons to die for.

My adventure is still beginning with so much to dish on so many dishes. And so, my stomach growls as I say: bon appetite from Baltimore, Hon! I'm back!