shabbat shalom from my new substack
kicking it off with kugel
Thanks for joining my substack! I’ll be using this platform to dig deeper into ideas that I explore on my Instagram, connecting Shabbat cooking inspiration to musings on Jewish ancestral foodways. Take a seat and get comfortable, because you’re always welcome at my Shabbos table. <3
“Aunt Aviva’s Potato Kugel.” That’s the title of the recipe, written on an index card in my mom’s handwriting, and pasted in an overstuffed three-ring binder. I sent Aunt Aviva a message before writing this piece and she told me the recipe comes from a cookbook gifted to her by her mother-in-law, my great-grandma Shirley.
There are a few things I love about this:
Any recipe can become a person’s signature recipe, even if they didn’t develop it themselves. While I can now trace this recipe back to the “Jewish American Women’s League Cookbook” it still will always be Aunt Aviva’s kugel. Through her this recipe took on a life of its own, becoming a staple at nearly every chag meal in my family.
Recipes conjure memories and imaginations. When you eat a dish you experience the same sensations other people across time and space have had. Yet, the imprint of the chef, the moisture in the air, or in my case, the under-seasoning of the dish, makes it a unique experience each time. Even when you perfectly follow a recipe there is innate room for play.
Cookbooks are the best gifts. Each recipe is an iteration of the original gift. So in a way, when I make potato kugel, it is a gift from my great-grandma Shirley.
This recipe has become a classic for a reason. It’s pareve, gluten-free, and low-effort, so there’s never a reason not to make it. In typical Ashkenazi fashion, it relies heavily on a peeler and a food processor, which is perfect for me because leaning over the sink peeling potatoes makes me feel like I am in the shtetl (in a good way) and I just bought a “vintage” food processor for $10 which is working surprisingly well.
Unfortunately, as I mentioned earlier, I massively under-seasoned this dish. I know that a kugel will never be the star of the show, but at least it’s expected to be a well-respected supporting character. When I overheard someone kvetching to a friend that, “this kugel needs more salt!” I was ashamed. How can I call myself a chef if I can’t even bring a good dish to a Shabbat potluck?? It was a shonda.
Every week I push myself to make something I’ve never made before. I want to honor Shabbat as a sacred time of the week, and ok fine you caught me, I also want to keep up a reputation as one of the great Shabbos chefs in the neighborhood.
But what if I made the same kugel two weeks in a row? Then I could learn from my mistakes and add more salt, cinnamon (the crucial secret ingredient), and black pepper. Part of what’s beautiful about Shabbat is that it comes each week. It’s ok if the food isn’t perfect one week and it’s okay if you make the same dish two weeks in a row. There will be another the week after where you can make an absurdly complicated never-been-done-before dish. And then you can make it again the next week and make it actually taste good.
And even if my potluck contribution wasn’t perfect, there was kugel. And when I came back to the buffet table at the end of the night, it was all eaten up anyway.
As the Yiddish scholar Yehuda Elzet says “A Shabbes on Kigel iz vee a faigel on a fligel.” Translation: The Sabbath without kugel is like a bird with no wings.
Aunt Aviva’s Potato Kugel
(Hannah’s Version)
Ingredients
— 5 large potatoes
— 2 med-large onions
— 3 eggs
— 1 tsp baking powder
— 1 tsp of cinnamon
— 1 tsp of freshly-ground black pepper
— 1/2 Tbsp of Kosher Salt
— 1/2 cup of neutral oil
Directions
Peel potatoes early and let them sit in cold water
Preheat oven to 400° F
Grease 9 x 13 baking dish
Blend potatoes, onions, eggs, and baking powder in a food processor
Pour into baking dish and mix in salt, pepper, and cinnamon
Slowly add oil and mix
Bake at 400 F for 1 hour