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.

Turkey day

Turkey day (or in my case, turkey days) sucked all life out of me. Stuffed even fatter than each turkey I engulfed and woosy from celebratory “I’m thankful for…” toasts, writing and blogging was far from my mind. Food comas ensued, parades were watched and catch-up sleep was a must.

Of course, like everyone else, I said thanks for my family (adopted and real), my friends, my health and my happiness, but I also added a few new “thanks” this year. I attended not one, not two, not three, but FOUR Thanksgiving meals, making me realize just how thankful I am for all the love in my life – love for one another and love for food.

Everyone wanted to host and celebrate the day grounded in gobble-gobble goodness. I gladly obliged and reaped the benefits.

Thanksgiving meal #1: Cuban Thanksgiving meal, Aventura, Wednesday night Though I arrived late, even by Latin standards, to meet up with my boyfriend and his family, I nibbled on a few scraps of pulled pork and moist pumpkin muffins, the latter made by my boyfriend’s sister. I washed down my glass of red with café con leche, a bite of birthday cake and flute of champagne for dessert.

Thanksgiving meal #2: Mom’s Thanksgiving feast- half Italian, half American, Plantation, Thursday afternoon My mom and stepdad have friends who live to cook. They enjoy preparing dishes that guests go ga-ga over – the tried-and-true crowd pleasers. Appetizers began at 1 p.m. Spinach dip, artichoke dip, sliced meats and veggie trays competed with “sausage bread,” a take on my stepdad’s special pepperoni-and-cheese pinwheels. Certainly no lack of food.

Usuals – the turkey, the stuffing, the green bean casserole, the cranberry sauce – made their appearances. My plate, however, was taken over by the sweet potato concoction that makes me salivate even six months before Thanksgiving. Like dessert for dinner, the sweet potato mush is cooked with butter, brown sugar and candied nuts on top. Nothing else on the table is worth eating. But just to add some variety to my meal, I opted for a heaping portion of salad with chopped apples and Gorgonzola cheese. Italian-style stuffed artichokes and green peppers were also too good to pass up.

Thanksgiving meal #3: Boyfriend’s family’s intimate dinner – the non-thanksgiving Thanksgiving, Plantation, Thursday night Andrew’s sister, a chef extraordinaire in her own right, doesn’t do the whole “you gotta have turkey on Thanksgiving.” Instead, she prepares a medium-rare rib roast with a perfectly seared outside. Cranberry sauce is spruced with oranges and apples; mashed potatoes are chunky and with the skin, just like I like. While I was too full to take anything more than one bite of each, I was able to enjoy a taste. Andrew, his parents, his sister, her boyfriend and I laughed as even the cat begged for snack.

Thanksgiving meal #4: Daddy’s Thanksgiving extravaganza – Jewish-style, Cooper City, Friday Let me put this out there – my dad is an awesome cook. I called him frantically the week before turkey day begging and pleading for a free-range turkey (I am on a new kick, adamantly supporting free-range and organic items because artificial drugs, pesticides and plumpers disgust me). Without so much as a complaint, he ordered my special turkey from Whole Foods.

Turns out, my turkey prepared by my stepmom was the most moist I have ever eaten. Even its gravy was juicy. In true Jewish tradition, food abounded. As if an entire turkey weren’t enough, sweet spiral ham was served. Full trays of green bean casserole, stuffing, sweet potato casserole and cucumber salad filled the serving table. My dad’s moist pumpkin bread and my grammey’s chocolate-covered, crunchy Chinese noodles had me fingering the dessert tier before dessert was even served.

My immediate family is notorious for too much food. Left-overs were boxed and sent home with guests, and that that couldn’t find a home was frozen for later enjoyment.

Spending time with family (especially my baby brother, home on leave from the Coast Guard Academy) and friends at all my meals made this November even more special. I did, however, somehow manage to miss the pumpkin pie at all my meals.

It’s funny – normally, I hate Thanksgiving, but not this year. Though my family didn’t set aside differences like the pilgrims and the Native Americans did, I was able to celebrate with all those whom I care about. There’s always enough of me to go around…too bad I can’t say the same about all the sweet potatoes I devoured.

Kitchen Blitz

Take back the dim lights, the coordinated table settings, the big and little forks. Skip the cloth napkins, the white tablecloths, the detailed plate placement, the perfectly selected wine lists. Forget about getting dolled up because the likelihood of you running into someone you haven’t seen in awhile and might want to look great for probably won’t show up. Heck, you can show up in your PJs if you really want.

As nice as dining out is, there’s nothing quite like a homemade meal. If your family is anything like mine, eating in is a treat in and of itself. The rich smells of a heavy red and mushrooms simmering and filling the kitchen, the clank of glasses taking ice from the freezer ice dispenser, the gentle (or not so gentle) bickering of loved ones scrambling to finish up. Sure, there are no waiters or extensive menus, but a dimmer solves mood lighting, background music is replaced by satellite radio from the TV and an every-so-often tablecloth will dress up the kitchen table. What’s best is, seconds are readily available and gratis.

While some families see holidays as the apropos time to seek a special meal out, mine takes it upon itself to cook in. Where better to celebrate family than the heart of it all – the home?

But good food is a sport.  It requires patience, practice, the ability to read plays in the form of recipes and an inkling to know when to change up the action when runs aren’t going your way.

Just ask my not-so-little little brother, Mike, who tackles the kitchen in addition to his high school football field. Instead of watching tapes, Mike watches Alton Brown. Warm-ups include going to one or two or even three grocery stores. Two-a-days are the days of preparation it takes to craft the main dish. And practice comes in the form of making multiple side dishes.  

For Father’s Day, Mike, who's just as big a fan of the Food Network as I am, decided he wanted to barbecue in honor of my pops (very manly!). Being a high school football player/soon-to-be U.S Coast Guard student and athlete, “too fattening” isn’t a concept brother bear needs to dote on. When he cooks, you know you are in for something delicious, but just as he does on the field, Mike likes hearty. He’s a real man’s man. A “gimme-steak, skip-the-veggies” kinda guy. So his menu for Father’s Day – a day to celebrate being a man – my brother decided to do a double play on an all-American favorite: the burger.

Gorgonzola and sun-dried tomato burgers (1/2 lb. each), served with a sautéed onion and mushroom topper on lightly grilled, pesto-painted French bread rolls

Honey Dijon broccoli slaw with chopped celery, crispy bacon bits, sweet raisins and almond slivers

Iced Tea

Mike's burgers, made from ground chuck, chopped onions, crumbled Gorgonzola and thinly sliced sun-dried tomatoes, are hand-packed and grilled to a medium-rare perfection on a charcoal grill. The cheese crumbles inside the burger make for a mouth-wateringly interesting take on the cheeseburger. It is so good, in fact, that it has to be served not on a regular hamburger roll, but on a spongy French roll.

In place of ketchup, Mike makes a homemade pesto, which he spreads on both sides of the bun, from fresh, blanched basil and toasted pine nuts. For the onion and mushroom toppings, he sautés the fresh veggies in red wine and the oil left over from the bacon that was used to make the broccoli slaw.  Talk about one football-field-sized burger!    

The caveat is you have to have it his way. No ifs, ands or buts…buns and pesto and all. Usually, I prefer my burgers without buns because I’d rather savor the meat, but with the fluffy French bread rolls and the garlicky pesto, there was no way I could resist. (Sir, yes, sir I will eat everything you prepare and take one for the team!).

The summery slaw, with its tangy, yet sweet Dijon dressing has just the right amount of crunch from the raw broccoli, the almond pieces and the fresh bacon bits.  It compliments the heavy, barbecued burger, but stands on its own as a cold, refreshing side that need not remain in the sidelines.

I'd be hard-pressed to find a restaurant that could provide the food and fabulous company we had this Father’s Day. No upset here. Mike’s well-thought-out meal was a touchdown if I ever tasted one.