The Gefilte
Variations: 200 Inspired Re-creations of
Classics From the Jewish Kitchen With Menus,
Stories, and Traditions for the Holidays and
Year-Round.
The
Gefilte Variations
is a hefty volume, sporting no obvious
cookbook filler -- there aren't even any
photographs. But the cover's Cubist menorah in
blue hues, with its scholarly, tome-like
appearance, is misleading, because Cohen's
Jewish cookbook gives us atypical
interpretations of a very rich tradition.
Jayne Cohen's
collection of cultural recipes is a revamping
of classic dishes for current tastes, with
flourishes expected of cooking today, like
Crispy Shallot Latkes With Sugar Dusting. Her
innovations are successful; while Cohen won't
cloak recipes in ancestral form, she doesn't
toy with innovation frivolously. As she says,
her improvisations "are firmly rooted in
Jewish tradition, and while playful, they
remain faithful to its spirit and soul."
But where does one find a tradition's spirit
and soul? What, in other words, is the essence
of a culinary tradition? There is no easy
academic answer, only personal takes on the
matter -- call them the Bubby Debates.
Essentially, "Jewish" to one grandmother is
unlike what the word means to the next. Again,
take latkes. One Bubby's family makes hers
with potato and onion, frying them in
schmaltz, "as in the old days." Another
substitutes zucchini or yams for the
traditional potato but insists on frying them
in oil, like the Chanukah story prescribes.
Another cares little for ingredients or
method. Instead, she preserves a dish's
context, noting the latke's role in holiday
ritual. Cohen seems most interested in this
last aspect, freely altering the ingredients
of traditional dishes, but using them in their
established roles. Kugel, for instance, can be
made with peaches and plums as long as it
preserves the spirit of practicality and
abundance required of the Jewish Sabbath and
holiday meals.
I don't mind
if Jewish cooks borrow ingredients or
techniques from other culinary canons, trying
to infuse some new flavors into Old Country
Cuisine. However, I prefer that this
integration is limited to geographic areas of
historic influence. Chinese food, for example,
is a huge part of contemporary American Jewish
culture, particularly on the East Coast, but
it is not a major influence on Jewish culture
historically. Therefore, it would seem out of
place in a book trying to maintain an earnest
tie to the past. Cohen, happily, avoids these
kinds of superficial associations. In general,
she refrains from compiling a worldly
potpourri of Jewish cuisine. Her recipes are
unusually elegant, but they stay close to the
familiar tastes of home and the flavors of the
seasons. She writes, "I am not creating silly,
culturally perverse combinations here, like
... jalapeņo-sundried tomato gefilte fish. ...
Rather, my recipes are all integrated
interpretations of food I think of as Jewish,
and all are kosher." Her pairing of mostly
Mediterranean flavors is right on: Apricot
Blintzes With Toasted Pistachios and Yogurt
Cream, Sorrel Onion Noodle Kugel. She does
dabble in adjectival excess, the editorial
equivalent of a striptease. But at least
tiringly verbose titles like "Salmon Gefilte
Fish Poached in Fennel-Wine Broth With
Ginger-Beet Horseradish" reveal quite
deliciously what the recipe holds in store.
Cohen's book
is a testament to how integration -- a risky
idea to historically ostracized people -- can
have preservative value. Cohen is a wonderful
cook, and she has used the fertile ground of
classic Jewish cooking to make good food. For
that reason, this book is a worthy tribute and
contribution to a continually evolving
cuisine. |
