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I needed a quick, but tasty vegetable dish for Simchat Torah, so I turned to an old favorite, guvetch. (Technically, it was a yahni, but most Romanians subsume all of the various vegetable stews under guvetch.) Although many versions call for eggplant, we had none in the house and actually didn’t miss it. I threw together some red peppers, carrots, green squash, kohlrabi, tomatoes, and onions, sprinkled in a little salt and dash of olive oil, simmered it atop the stove until the carrots were tender (about 30 minutes), then stuck the pot on the platta (large heating plate) until dinner. Little fuss or muss. The results were sweet and delicious. My mother kept asking me what spices I added, but besides the salt none. The cooking caramelized the sugar in the vegetables, while the juice from the vegetables melds, producing a succulent dish.
Types of earthenware pots typified Near Eastern cooking throughout much of the Biblical and Talmudic periods when these vessels were arranged over horseshoe-shaped clay stands with the kindling underneath lit through the opening. The Turks adopted various clay utensils, slow cooking pieces of meat and vegetables, either over a fire or in a pit oven, becoming a preferred approach of Ottoman cuisine. As new produce arrived in the Near East, such as eggplants, tomatoes, and peppers, Turkish cooks readily included them into these stews. During centuries of occupation of the Balkans, the Turks introduced their slow-cooked vegetable stews as well as many of the ingredients common to them to that region, including the rustic baked djuvec, named after the thick-based, thin straight-sided earthenware vessel, appearing similar to a flower pot, in which it was cooked and frequently served. In Romania and Bulgaria, the dish was pronounced guvetch, also variously spelled ghiveci, ghivetch, guvec, and yuvetch, and quickly became a staple, ranking among the most popular of foods. Similar ragouts are common throughout the former Ottoman Empire and adjacent areas, including the Sephardic khandrajo (“rags” in Ladino), the Greek briami, and the Provencal ratatouille (derived from touiller, from the Latin tudiculare, meaning “to stir” or “crush”). Nonetheless, ratatouille arrived in that region relatively late in history, first recorded in the early twentieth century, while eggplant stews were already mentioned in Turkey in the fourteenth century.
When baked uncovered in the oven, the stew is a guvetch, while a covered baked stew is technically a kapama, from the Turkish kapamak (to cover). A yahni or yachni, similarly named after a Persian earthenware vessel in which it was originally cooked, entails covering the pot and stewing over a fire. A little water is added to uncovered stews, while no water is used when cooked covered. In eastern Turkey, Armenia, and parts of Greece, a synonym for guvetch is known as a turlu, from the Turkish for “mixture,” although some cooks contend that turlu should never contain eggplant, while others insist it should have pieces of mutton. Sephardim in Turkey typically cooked turlu in an oya, the Ladino for olla, a Spanish squat, rounded, wide-mouth earthenware pot.
As with most plebeian dishes, there is no definitive recipe. However, to be authentic, guvetch must contain a selection of vegetables and be slow cooked, the contents varying based upon personal preference, habit, and availability. A guvetch can be made with a few or more than twenty vegetables. Frequently, leftover vegetables and soup went into a guvetch. Most vegetable stews are actually better when made in large quantities and frequently when reheated the next day, the flavors having an opportunity to meld and mellow. Middle Eastern vegetable stews tend to be cooked until all the ingredients are very soft; any sign of crispness is a sign of a bad cook. Stews containing summer vegetables — eggplants, green beans, okra, peppers, tomatoes, and zucchini — are a guvetch yaz (summer stew). Guvetch de riz is cooked with rice. Those predominantly made with winter squash and various root vegetables — carrots, celeriac, potatoes, and turnips — are called guvetch kis. Other commonly added items include cabbage, leeks, lima beans, mushrooms, potatoes, and even sour grapes. Jewish versions tend to be vegetarian. Although an earthenware pot enhances and contributes to the flavor of the stew, it can be cooked in any oven-proof vessel or simmered in a pot. The flavors develop and meld during the long baking period. Seasonings in these stews are generally rather mild, the essential flavor derived from the combination of vegetables and the cooking process, not any specific content. Characteristic of Romanian cookery, there must be garlic and plenty of it, sometimes both minced and whole. Turks generally add a little lemon juice. Romanians brought guvetch to Israel where it is now commonly sold in containers in most supermarkets. But it is so easy to make at home, and tasty, and a great way to use those vegetables in the refrigerator, that I don’t know why more non-Romanians don’t do it.

Romanian Vegetable Stew (Guvetch) P
(6 to 8 servings as a side dish)
2 cups (14 ounces) peeled, seeded, and coarsely chopped plum tomatoes
4 medium onions, sliced
2 to 4 cloves garlic, minced
1 pound green beans, trimmed, or 1 pound okra, trimmed
4 small green or yellow squash or any combination, cut into chunks
2 medium green bell peppers, seeded and sliced
2 medium red bell peppers, seeded and sliced
4 to 8 whole cloves garlic
1 to 2 large carrots, sliced (optional)
1 small head cauliflower, cut into florets (optional)
About 1 teaspoon table salt or 2 teaspoons kosher salt
Ground black pepper to taste
½ cup vegetable stock or water
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

In a large pot, combine all of the ingredients. Cover and simmer over a low heat until the vegetables are tender, about 40 minutes. Or bake at 350 degrees, uncovered, until the vegetables are tender and most of the liquid evaporates, about 1½ hours. Serve warm, at room temperature, or slightly chilled.

VARIATIONS
Romanian Baked Vegetable Stew (Kapama): Omit the water. Cover the casserole with aluminum foil and bake in a 350-degree oven until tender, about 1½ hours. Or use the water, and sprinkle the bottom layer of tomatoes with ¾ cup long-grain rice.

Greek Vegetable Stew (Yachni de Verduras): Reduce the garlic to 1 to 2 minced cloves and the water to ¼ cup. Add 3 tablespoons chopped fresh dill or 2 teaspoons dried oregano. In Step 5, stir together all the ingredients, cover, and simmer over very low heat until tender, about 40 minutes.

I occasionally discover new food bloggers when I get quoted and the Google alert appears. Some bloggers (obviously my favorites and I’m always appreciative) quote me on a regular basis, while others much less so. In any case, we all share a passion for food, which comes through in our work. Rarely, do I get a chance to actually meet people from the blogosphere in person and never before have I met with a large assemblage of them. But this past week, a group of twelve Israeli food bloggers and I had dinner and discussions at the Eucalyptus Restaurant in Jerusalem, all arranged by Shira Kallus Zwebner (i.e. kosherfoodie on Twitter).
More on the dinner and participants in a moment, but first let me regale you with tales of my harrowing adventures going and coming. I took a bus into the city, then hailed a cab on the street, who would not admit that he did not know where the restaurant’s new location was, but instead dropped me near the Montifiore Restaurant adjacent to the windmill. I wandered for a while and to make matters worse, I stopped to ask three different police officers for directions, and each pointed me in the wrong direction, until I ended up back at the windmill. Fortunately, I had a cell phone (thank you Israel for another great invention) and Shira’s cell number. I finally returned to the Montifiore Restaurant, where a waiter kindly called a cab, who actually did know where he was going and dropped me off in the right place. So I arrived nearly half an hour late, which was not a conspicuous way to begin an evening, as I am not the type that likes to be fashionably late.
Leaving also proved to be an adventure. I received a ride to my bus stop from Yael from Modiin, who was as unfamiliar with driving in the narrow streets of Jerusalem as I. As we tried to leave the parking lot, we discovered that the narrow dead-end street was illegally parked on both sides by drivers heading to the nearby Kotel. Yet cars were still attempting to move in both directions. Several small cars managed to squeak by in the other direction, but then facing us was a large Chrysler van and there was no way either of us could pass. Yael tried backing up a little, but behind us was a line of cars also trying to get out. Finally, the three or more cars heading in the opposite direction in front of us realized that it was they who had to move and retreated, including the massive van. We inched ahead passing the cars illegally parked on both sides and finally made it out, without giving or receiving a scratch. I got to the Tunnel Junction around midnight, well after the last bus to Alon Shvut had passed. Fortunately, the second car that drove by was a young guy heading to Alon Shvut, so I made it home by 12:30. Whew!
Anyway, back to the main event. It was a very diverse group of people from as far away as Beer Sheva and Tel Aviv: religious and non-religious, former Americans and native Israelis, those who are great cooks and others who remain less than adept in the kitchen. What we all shared was a love for food and, in particular, for Jewish food.
Here are my new friends, in no particular order other than their position around the table:

Shira Kallus Zwebner
Katherine Martinelli www.katherinemartinelli.com
Liz Steinberg cafeliz Israeli food blog food.lizsteinberg.com
Ariella Darsa Amshalem www.aricooks.wordpress.com
Michelle Kemp-Nordell and her husband David www.baronesstapuzina.com
Miriam Kresh www.israelikitchen.com
Sarah Melamed   foodbridge  www.sarahmelamed.com
Yael Ruder @ Hope It Will Rain www.yaelruder.blogspot.com
Hannah Katsman www.cookingmanager.com
Mirjam Weiss www.miriyummy.wordpress.com

(If I omitted anyone, please forgive me and let me know.)
For those of you unfamiliar with Eucalyptus Restaurant and its dynamic owner Moshe Basson, he is from an Iraqi family, and his parents opened a bakery in the village of Beit Safafa. Local Arab women (older housewives are always the best source to learn the foods and culinary traditions of any community) would come to use the bakery oven, as in Iraq, and he was exposed to both their dishes as well as the wild edible plants they used in them. Moshe is particularly passionate about indigenous plants and foods of the Levant. He even won the International Couscous Competition in Italy in 1999.
I have dined at Basson’s restaurants before, so I knew what to expect. He loves wild native plants and herbs, especially za’atar, sumac, Israeli sage, and hubeza, which star and sparkle in his dishes. Among his signature dishes are stuffed figs in tamarind sauce (recipe follows); a tasting of three soups, red lentil, Jerusalem artichoke, and his mother’s tomato soup (it was my favorite of the trio); charred eggplant in tahina and pomegranate sauce; kofta (veal meatballs); stuffed hubeza or grape leaves; and, of course, couscous with vegetable and chickpeas (the latter, when made with 7 symbolic elements is actually a traditional Moroccan Rosh Hashanah dish). The highlight of Basson’s meals is the makluba (a local upside down rice and chicken casserole originally derived from the Persian polo, also the source of the Western pilaf). Moshe prodded me to dress in apron and funny hat to unveil the evening’s makluba, and there are now pictures out there to prove it.
Besides those disturbing photos now out there on the internet, the evening’s only problem was that it was far too short. I do hope to be able to spend more time in the future with the group. All too frequently when I get started talking about food, people’s eyes start to glaze over, so it’s always refreshing to be around others who share my interest. And it’s always nice to hear how appreciated and used the Encyclopedia of Jewish Food and Olive Trees and Honey have become. I don’t become tired of hearing people admit how they use my books as a resource.
If I could encourage others to do anything, it would be to preserve copies of recipes of traditional family foods. All too frequently and tragically, these dishes don’t pass from one generation to the next. So get your grandmothers, aunts, and mother and wrangle these details from them while you can, even if it means catching their “pinch of this” or “handful of that” in a cup and measuring it. Then after securing these treasures, pass them around to your family and post them on the internet. These recipes are a part of Jewish history and should rightfully be preserved for all to enjoy and learn. They are a taste, literally and figuratively, of our past and hopefully future as well.

Moshe Basson’s Stuffed Figs
(12 servings)
12 fresh or dried figs
Filling:
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 chicken breast (about 1 pound), coarsely chopped
1 teaspoon ground allspice
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon freshly ground cardamom seed
salt to taste
Sauce:
½ cup strained tamarind paste or ¼ cup pomegranate molasses
½ cup water
1 tablespoon sugar
salt to taste

1. To make the filling: In a large skillet over medium heat, heat the oil, add the onion, and sauté until soft and light golden, about 10 minutes. Add the chicken and half the quantity of each spice. Stir until the chicken loses its raw color, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a bowl and let cool. Do not wash the pan.
2. To make the sauce: Into the same skillet, put the tamarind paste, water, sugar, remaining spices, and salt. Stir well and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat and stir until it is smooth, velvety. Set aside.
3. To prepare the figs: If using fresh figs, make an incision into the upper third of the fig, making sure you do not cut through so that the fig can be reassembled after stuffing. With a small spoon or melon baller, scoop out the fig flesh. Add half of it to the sauce and half to the chicken mixture. If using dried figs, use your fingers to create a cavity in the center of the fig.
4. To assemble: Stuff the cavity of the figs with the chicken mixture. Put the stuffed figs into the prepared sauce in the skillet, cover and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat and simmer gently for about 15 minutes. Garnish with fresh pomegranate seeds.

VARIATIONS:
For a vegetarian version, substitute a combination of button and oyster mushrooms for the chicken.

A more elaborate version is made with stuffed onions and stuffed small eggplants.

On Monday evening September 19, I participated in a special program for the Israel Association for Ethiopian Jews (IAEJ). Held in the Baka section of Jerusalem in the home kitchen of one of the IAEJ board members and in front of 60 paying guests and five Ethiopian staff members, I prepared a vegetarian wot (stew) and discussed Ethiopian history, culture, and cookery. In addition, there was injera (Ethiopian pancake breads made from teff grains and with an interesting sour flavor), a lentil stew, and various Ethiopian snacks, such as roasted chickpeas and popcorn. And there was a pot of iab (pronounced ive), an Ethiopian curd cheese that helps moot the chilies common to many Ethiopian dishes (more on this later). A fun time was had by all. I was especially appreciative that the Ethiopians all agreed that my wot was authentic and among the best-tasting they had had. Some commented on how I helped explain the logic of their cookery. I was one small part of a wider effort to bring Ethiopians into the Israeli mainstream and for Israel to finally accept and appreciate as equals their Ethiopian citizens. (Considering that the Euro-centric Israeli Ashkenazic power structure — including the media, academia, courts, and much of the defense establishment – still looks down upon Sephardim and Mizrachim, uplifting the status of Ethiopians is no small task.) I view Klal Yisrael as a mosaic of Jewish cultures from around the world, each as valid and integral as the others.
My friend Chava, who was my first assistant editor when I started Kosher Gourmet magazine, is currently Resource Development Director of IAEJ. (Here’s their English site: http://iaej-english.org/ ) Together with executive director Ziva Mekonen-Degu, we developed my program. After all, what touches a community, both everyday life and periods of celebrations, more than food. Food carries history; food carries culture. By getting a taste of a community’s food, you get a literal and figurative taste of that culture. So food is one way, certainly a most enjoyable way, to learn about and experience the Ethiopian community.
For more than two millennia, the land lying to the west of the Red Sea served as home to a group of black Jews known to the Ethiopians by the derogatory term of Falasha (“wanderers” in Ge’ez), but calling themselves Beta Israel (“House of Israel”). Although several medieval Jewish travelers mentioned black Jews living in eastern Africa, the Western world only confirmed their existence in a 1790 report by the Scottish explorer James Bruce. Most scholars believe that the Beta Israel are descendants of native Agau tribes converted to Judaism by contact with Jews living in Arabia or by Jewish refugees who arrived in the area by way of either Egypt or Arabia following the destruction of the First Temple. The Beta Israel maintained their independence and their own kings and queens until being defeated in the 1620s by Emperor Susenyos. It was the intersession of the Portuguese at that time that finally led to a shift in the balance of power. (Pointedly, this transformation occurred just two decades before the Chmielnicki Massacres of 1648 decimated Polish Jewry and transformed it from one of wealth and education to poverty and persecution.) The Beta Israel were then banished to the Gondar region adjacent to the Sudanese border and Lake Tana, the source of the Nile River, and subjected to centuries of persecution and aggressive proselytizing efforts.
Before 1977, Ethiopian culture and cookery was obscure to those outside that country. Then during the following thirteen years, more than 40,000 Beta Israel were relocated to Israel, making their ancient traditions accessible to outsiders. Today, the Beta Israel community in the Holy Land comprises more than 250,000 members and Ethiopian restaurants are found in some cities.
There are numerous misconceptions about Ethiopian cookery in particular and Ethiopian culture in general. During the course of the evening, IAEJ and myself helped to dissuade some of those misconceptions through exposure to the culture and foods.
One of the men present mentioned that he thought of Ethiopian food as bland, like that of nearby Kenya. Nothing could be further from the truth. To be sure, Ethiopian cookery is simple and based on poverty food, but it is anything but bland. Of even like that of any neighboring African countries. And simple is not bad. Indeed any good chef will tell you that overcomplicated food is bad. The key to any good cooking is to let the fresh natural ingredients shine.
Ethiopia, unlike the rest of Africa, was never fully colonized by Europeans (the brief Italian period did not impact the local culture) and, therefore, the area’s cookery evidences none of the European influences. (Try to think of Moroccan or Tunisian cooking without French or Libyan without Italian.) Ethiopians, no matter their social status or class, ate the same foods, although the richer might enjoy more and better quality meat. Ethiopians traditionally ate two major meals each day — breakfast and dinner. In between, they snacked on roasted corn kernels, roasted peas and chickpeas, and seeds. Legumes serve as the base of many dishes. The principal vegetables are the traditional cabbage, carrots, collard, lettuce, and onions and those introduced from America corn, potatoes, squash, and tomatoes. Chilies, garlic and mushrooms help to enhance dishes. Onions are essential, uniquely first cooked without any fat, which helps them to better break down during cooking to thicken and flavor the sauce.
There is not a lot of variety in Ethiopian ingredients, but each item taste quite different even when using the same spices. Ethiopian cooking is both spicy and fiery, the latter produced by chilies and particularly berbere, an essential homemade chili powder used as a condiment. Mixing the powder with a little oil and tej (honey wine) and allowing the mixture to ferment produces a hot sauce called awaze, used as a condiment. Every Ethiopian household maintains a jar of berbere and/or awaze, often homemade from a time-honored recipe. Ethiopian spice mixtures –- typically cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, coriander, ginger and turmeric — reflect Arabic and Indian influences, the result of millennia of trade. When most Westerners first taste an Ethiopian dish, it reminds them of the cooking of southern India. Since most Ethiopian meals were vegetarian, clarified butter, and typically plenty of it, was common to many dishes, while iab accompanied and ended most meals. Butter is made from ergo (fermented whole milk).
In Ethiopia, they lived in tukuls (mud-and-straw huts). Typically, diners sat on stools around six to eight inches high or on the floor around a low round wicker table. The two principal Ethiopian dishes, around which all meals revolve, are injera (a thin batter bread made from teff grains) and a thick vegetable or legume-based stew, prepared in spicy/fiery versions made with berbere called wot and milder ones known as alicha. The injera batter, prepared by frying on round terra cotta trays and skillets, was typically made in large batches to be stored for up to a week in woven grass sacks. Several thin, large gray injera are stacked on a communal tray and the wot, cooked salads, and legumes then spooned in sections on top. Each person, using their right hand, pulls off a small piece of injera while scooping up some of the food, then folds it between their fingers to eat. The tart, spongy injera complements with spicy-fiery stew. Coffee, native to Ethiopia, is typically served at the end of the meal. There is no dessert.
In the impoverished Ethiopian communities, meat was generally reserved for special occasions; cooked meat dishes subsumed under the category of tib. Chicken, the predominant meat, was occasionally prepared by roasting over an open flame, a dish usually reserved for the Sabbath. Goats and sheep were raised for meat and wool, while most dairy products were produced from cow’s milk. Livestock was ritually slaughtered by the local kes (priest), then salted and rinsed to make kosher. Fresh-water fish from local streams and lakes were enjoyed when available.
The Sanbat (Sabbath) is a very special part of the Ethiopian Jew’s week. The meals were prepared in advance with everything ready before sundown on Friday and all dishes served at room temperature. At Sabbath meals, the Beta Israel serve honey-wheat bread cut into slices called dabos. Aspecila treat was a salad made from pieces of dabos and iab. Even those who cannot afford it during the week, make a special effort to have a little chicken or meat in their Sabbath wots. Ethiopian Jews lacked wine and, therefore, for Kiddush used tallah, a grain alcohol-based drink similar to beer and fermented by gesho leaves. An amber-colored spirit similar to mead is made from tedj (honey). A unique festival of the Beta Israel is the Sigd, which, thanks to the efforts of IAEJ, is now recognized as an official holiday in Israel.
IAEJ, founded in 1993, is dedicated to advocacy among national and regional decision-makers. IAEJ gives voice to the needs of the Ethiopian-Israeli community to advance wiser, more effective and more efficient policies in the spheres of education, employment, housing and community empowerment.
In February 2011, IAEJ advocacy led to a unanimous Israeli Knesset decision to extend the affirmative action policy in national civil service posts (achieved in 2007) to regional government offices and state-owned companies.
In February 2011, IAEJ advocacy led to the repeal of a discriminatory housing policy which limited Ethiopian-Israelis to utilizing mortgage grants only at designated addresses, often in unsuitable high-risk neighborhoods. IAEJ was subsequently invited to participate in revising more constructive guidelines for mortgage grants.
In May 2011, a study commissioned by IAEJ revealed steep gaps in educational achievements between Ethiopian-Israelis and the general Jewish population. The data commissioned by IAEJ led the Ministry of Education to decide to evaluate the effectiveness of educational programs under its auspices. The Ministry will also increase the number of educational hours allocated to Ethiopian immigrants (during the first six years they are residing in Israel).
In June 2011, IAEJ-together with young Ethiopian-Israeli activists (“Mateh Hamaavak LeShivion Hevrati LeYotzei Ethiopia”)—won a precedent setting decision made by Israel’s High Court. The Court found that that key provisions of the Israeli government’s 2008 “Five Year Plan” to advance Ethiopian-Israelis were not implemented-including allocations in the amount of NIS 100 million. IAEJ took on a two year legal struggle (supported by volunteer attorneys) and made the case to Israel’s High Court that the funding be restored. In its June 2011 decision, the High Court ruled that the NIS 100 million allocation be disbursed in keeping with the original plan. The High Court ruling also requires the government to extend the Five Year Plan through 2014 and to reserve 1,000 mortgage grants to young Ethiopian-Israelis to be utilized through 2015. IAEJ will monitor the implementation of this ruling-as part of its broader aim to assure that programs and funding intended to advance Ethiopian-Israelis are properly implemented.
Oh, here is the stew I prepared that evening. To turn it into a wot, add 2 to 4 tablespoons (30 to 60 ml) ground dried red chilies:

Ethiopian Vegetable Stew (Tikil Gomen Alicha)
(5 to 6 servings)
2 medium onions, chopped
3 tablespoons (45 ml) vegetable oil
1 pound carrots, cut into ¼ inch slices (3 large/455 grams)
2 to 4 cloves garlic, minced
About 1 cup (240 ml) water
1 pound small potatoes, cut into ¼ inch slices or quartered (about 6/454 grams)
1 to 2 small green chilies, seeded and sliced (optional)
About 1 teaspoon (5 ml) salt
About ½ teaspoon (2.5 ml) ground black pepper
½ teaspoon (2.5 ml) ground turmeric
¼ teaspoon (1.25 ml) ground cardamom
¼ teaspoon (1.25 ml) ground cinnamon or coriander
¼ teaspoon (1.25 ml) ground ginger
1/8 teaspoon (.625 ml) ground cloves
1 tablespoon (15 ml) tomato paste (optional)
1 pound (455 grams) green cabbage, sliced, 1 bunch chard, sliced, or 1 pound green beans

1. In a dry large skillet, cook the onions, stirring constantly, over medium heat until they begin to soften, about 3 minutes.
2. Add the oil. When the oil begins to sputter, add the carrots and garlic and sauté until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add ½ cup water, bring to a boil, and simmer for 5 minutes. Add the potatoes and, for a more fiery stew, chilies, cover, and simmer for 2 minutes.
3. Stir in the salt, pepper, spices, and, if using, tomato paste. Add the cabbage and remaining ½ cup water. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are tender-crisp, about 20 minutes. If the cooking liquid reduces too much, add a little more water and continue cooking. Serve warm or at room temperature with injera or various flat breads and, if desired, yogurt or lab (Ethiopian cheese spread).

VARIATIONS
Ethiopian Gingered Vegetable Stew (Yataklete Alicha): Omit the turmeric, cardamom, cinnamon, ground ginger, and cloves and add 1 tablespoon (15 ml) minced fresh ginger with the garlic.

I’ve traveled to many parts of Long Island over the years to give talks and presentations, but I’ve never been to Stony Brook University. It’s about a two hour trip by train from the Upper West Side to the next to the last stop on the Port Jefferson line of the Long Island Railroad. But on Labor Day Sunday, I was the featured guest for Stony Brook Hillel’s “Festival of Bites.” The program was aimed for the entire Jewish community of Suffolk and not just college students.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, but was actually pleasantly surprised by both the extent of the exhibitors and the size of the crowd. I was suspect of attracting people on a holiday weekend, but I guess for food Jews will turn out (which is fortunate in my line of work), and the large campus ballroom was filled with noshers (my type of crowd) who paid $15 for a ticket. A number of local kosher businesses manned tables offering free samples of everything from deli sandwiches to knishes to rugelach to chocolate-dipped fruit. People also contributed non-perishable items for a food drive. And raffles raised a lot of money.
I gave an hour and a half cooking class on Rosh Hashanah foods from around the world, including samples at the end. I was busy with a book signing for Encyclopedia of Jewish Food and missed the samples, which all vanished by the time I finished the signing. It was standing room only and most of the attendees remained for the entire cooking session, although a few did occasionally return to the tables for additional noshing. Many of the adults were fascinated by the chard, with which most were unfamiliar. (Chard is so closely related and linked to the beet, both subspecies of the same plant, that they share the same name in ancient Aramaic, silka. Unlike the beet, chard never developed a large edible root, thus its culinary usage remains its leaves. The Talmud recommends chard and beet greens as a Rosh Hashanah food, as their name silka is similar to the Aramaic word “to remove/disappear,” as in sheyistalek oyvenu (may our enemies be removed) or yistaklu oyvekha (may your enemies be removed).) The students particularly liked the Sephardic pumpkin pancakes, and some took extra to enjoy back in the dorms. (Pumpkin, a large, orange fruit, has been widely cultivated throughout the Americas for about 6,000 years and was among the first New World foods introduced to Europeans by native Americans. In the beginning of the 16th century, Sephardim and Italian Jews began selling pumpkins and adopted them into their pantry earlier, and more vigorously than their neighbors. Therefore, the presence of pumpkin in many early Mediterranean dishes is a sign of Sephardic influence. Sephardim and Italians use it to make soups, stews, puddings, jams, cakes, pancakes, and fill pastries. This autumn vegetable is used for various traditional Rosh Hashanah, Sukkot, and Hanukkah dishes.)
Kudos to Rabbi Joseph Topek (who had been at Stony Brook for nearly 30 years, but was previously at VCU in Richmond, although I did not meet him back then) and the staff (including Jill Zucker and Joy Gluzman) and board of directors of Stony Brook Hillel for taking a chance on this new program and putting in a lot of time and effort. I think the old cliché “a good time was had by all” amply applies.
Here are recipes for braised chard and pumpkin pancakes. You can find more traditional dishes and information on them in Encyclopedia of Jewish Food, Olive Trees and Honey, and The World of Jewish Cooking (and they make great holiday gifts too):

Sephardic Braised Chard (Silka) P
(6 to 8 servings)
2 pounds (about 3 bunches) chard or beet greens, soaked in a large bowl of cold water several times and drained
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
2 to 4 cloves garlic, minced
About 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
About ¼ teaspoon table salt or ½ teaspoon kosher salt

1. Separate the chard leaves from the stems. Cut the stems into ½-inch-wide pieces and the leaves into 1-inch pieces. There will be about 2 quarts, but the greens cook down.
2. In a large pot, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and sauté until soft and translucent, 5 to 10 minutes. Add the chard stems, cover, reduce the heat to low, and simmer for 3 minutes.
3. Add the leaves and sauté until well coated and the greens begin to wilt. Cover and simmer until tender, 5 to 10 minutes. Stir in the lemon juice and salt. Serve warm or at room temperature as a side dish or salad.

VARIATIONS
Moroccan Chard Salad (Shlata Silka): With the stems, add 2 teaspoons paprika, 1 to 1½ teaspoons ground cumin, and, for a little heat, a pinch of cayenne.

Syrian Swiss Chard with Black-Eyed Beans (Silka bi Lubiya): This combines two Rosh Hashanah symbols in one dish. With the chard leaves, add 1½ to 2 cups cooked black-eyed peas and ¼ teaspoon ground turmeric.

Syrian Chard with Chickpeas (Silka bi Hummus): This also combines two Rosh Hashanah symbols in one dish. With the chard leaves, add 1½ to 2 cups cooked chickpeas.

Greek Pumpkin Patties (Bimuelos de Calabaza/Fritadas de Calabaza)
(About 12 patties)
1 cup all-purpose flour or whole-wheat
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground nutmeg or ¼ teaspoon ground coriander or allspice
Pinch of ground ginger
About ½ teaspoon table salt, or 1 teaspoon kosher salt
3 large eggs
1¾ cups mashed cooked pumpkin (about 2½ pounds raw), or 15 ounces pure-pack canned pumpkin (not pumpkin pie mix)
½ cup light brown sugar
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
Vegetable oil for frying

1. Combine the flour, spices, and salt. Lightly beat the eggs. Blend in the pumpkin, sugar, and vanilla. Stir in the flour mixture just to combine. It should be pourable and a little thicker than standard pancake batter; if too thin, add a little more flour.
2. Heat a thin layer of oil in a large skillet over medium heat. In batches, drop the batter by tablespoonfuls and fry, turning once, until golden brown on both sides, about 2 minutes per side. Serve warm or at room temperature.