Chanukah as a kid was an exercise in delight and restraint. My parents would assemble the piles of wrapped gifts on the buffet in the dining room—mine on the right, my sister’s on the left—flanking the menorah my grandparents brought back from Israel. The order of opening gifts, and how many we opened on a given night was up to us. If we wanted a major festival, we could open them all at once on the first night, but then that was it for a long seven days following. There were usually 10 or 11 little packages, so there were nights where we could open two and still be safe. But trying to figure out which ones were the earmuffs and which ones were the new Simon toy or Sony Walkman was no easy feat.
My favorite Chanukah memory didn’t involve opening any presents at all. We lived in a three-story house in Lincoln Park, and the third floor held my bedroom, my sister’s bedroom, our shared bathroom, a small utility room, and an open loft playroom. The Chanukah I was maybe 6 or 7, my folks sent us out for the day, and when we returned, as our present, they had converted half of the loft space into an arts and crafts center, with a door on top of construction horses for a table, a huge roll of brown butcher paper secured at one end. Shelves were full of paints and crayons, felt and yarn, popsicle sticks, glass jars of wooden beads and shapes of macaroni, every color of plastic lanyard, piles of construction paper. That gift kept on giving as long as we lived in that house, and I will never forget the feeling of seeing the place all decked out for the first time.
As we got older, Chanukah gradually got reduced in importance. We try to be together at least one night, and light the candles, and our stacks of wrapped gifts have become a small envelope of gift certificates for spa treatments, which is more fun than ear muffs any day, and the grown-up equivalent of a small battery-operated toy. But looking back, Chanukah is probably the only holiday I actually don’t associate much with food. As a kid, the holiday was, no shocker here, about the presents. We lit the candles and sang the songs, and usually, on one of the nights, my grandmother Jonnie would whip up some of her amazing latkes, but we never really developed any specific Chanukah meals.
Now everyone knows about the latkes, and they are well covered on other pages of this very publication if you’ll look around. But I realized that most people I spoke with couldn’t really remember a specific dinner for Chanukah—they usually either ate whatever was generically for dinner that night, or traditional Shabbat-type meals. So when I was asked to create a Chanukah dinner with a twist, I realized the twist was actually thoughtfully planning a Chanukah menu!
Obviously you’ll have latkes covered. So for starters, I thought I’d throw a curveball at your usual brisket. Save your grandmother’s famous recipe for Rosh Hashanah or Passover, and try my new dead-simple recipe. I’ve got a great, surprising carrot salad to add some crunch and brightness to the plate, add the green vegetable of your choice and you have as balanced and delicious a meal as you could want. As a bonus, I’ve tossed in one of my new favorite desserts…it’s dairy, so if you keep kosher you’ll have to try it a different night.
Hope these quick and easy recipes brighten your table while the Chanukah lights brighten your home and hearts.
Chanukah Brisket
(make the night before)
5 lb beef brisket
16 oz. tangerine juice (you can substitute orange if you have to, but the tangerine is special if you can find it)
32 oz. fresh apple cider
Place brisket in large dutch oven, and cover with both juices. Put lid on pot (or cover tightly with foil) and put in a 350 degree oven for 3 hours. Remove pot from oven and let sit on counter till room temperature. Store in fridge overnight.
Next day remove brisket from juice, slice across the grain in half-inch slices, and arrange slices in baking dish. Cover meat with some of the reserved juice, and reheat covered with foil in 350 degree oven one hour, then turn down to 200 degrees until you are ready to serve.
Carrot Salad
2 lbs carrots, grated
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
8 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons dried oregano
Salt and pepper to taste
Mix in bowl, and taste for seasoning. Serve chilled or room temperature.
Caramel Semolina Cake
¾ cup plus 8 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons butter, melted
3 large eggs
4 cups milk
1 vanilla bean
Pinch of sea salt
¾ cup plus 1 tablespoon fine semolina
¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
½ cup golden or red flame raisins
1. Place rack in center of oven and preheat to 400 degrees. Have ready a 6-cup soufflé dish.
2. Place 8 tablespoons of the sugar in medium skillet. Cook over medium heat, swirling pan as sugar dissolves. Once it has turned golden brown, quickly scrape caramel into soufflé dish, swirling to coat bottom. Brush sides of dish with melted butter.
3. Whisk eggs in bowl. In medium saucepan, combine milk, remaining ¾ cup of sugar and vanilla bean (split lengthwise and seeds scraped into the pan). Whisk over medium heat until small bubbles form around edges. Remove from heat, cover and let steep for 10 minutes. Remove vanilla bean.
4. Return milk to medium heat. When small bubbles form around edges, add salt and slowly sprinkle in semolina, whisking constantly. Once it is incorporated, stir with wooden spoon until thickened, about 5-10 minutes. Turn off heat and quickly whisk in eggs. Stir in nutmeg and raisins. Pour into prepared dish and bake until puffed and golden, 40 to 45 minutes. Serve warm from dish, or cool and unmold. To unmold, run knife around sides, set bottom of the dish in boiling water for 5 minutes, then turn it out onto a cake plate.
Stacey Ballis is a novelist and freelance writer in Chicago. She is the author of four novels, including “Room for Improvement” and “The Spinster Sisters.” Find out more about her at www.staceyballis.com.
