An updated post from the archives, with new photos.
My father, like all dads of the 1950s, mastered a couple of pieces
of cooking equipment and had his special dishes that he produced on
holidays, and on demand.
With the aid of a charcoal kettle grill in the back yard, he made
the world's best lamb chops. In the electric frying pan, on Sunday
mornings, he would make Spit in the Ocean,
or another weird concoction that involved slices of bologna or salami
floating in a sea of scrambled eggs. If that dish had a name, I've
repressed it.
Every year in the Spring, my father did his best work, with a
straight-sided covered sauté pan, a large melamine mixing bowl ... and
his hands. Spring meant Passover, which meant matzoh, which meant matzoh brei. We ate this only once a year. And my dad was the matzoh brei king.
Matzoh (also
spelled matzah, or matzo) is unleavened bread, made from wheat flour
and water. By tradition and by definition, it's not allowed to ferment;
in fact, from the time the water is added to the flour, it must be
completely cooked in no more than 18 minutes. The result is a
cracker-like consistency and, as you can imagine from something with
only two ingredients, virtually no taste. Oh, there are flavored
matzohs, enhanced with egg or onion or sesame — there's even
chocolate-covered matzoh — but to us those were not "real" matzoh, and we never ate them at home.
Store-bought was our everyday, but for special occasions like Passover, my parents would seek out the more elusive shmura matzoh, which is a kind of artisan product: hand-made, and wood-fired.
Available year-round in my local supermarket, matzoh makes a fine alternative in lasagna, meatloaf, pudding, or chocolate crunch. I can grind the matzoh to make a coating for lamb chops,
though they will never taste as good as my dad's, but after years of
practice, my matzoh brei is every bit as delicious as his.
By the way, this post goes out to my Cousin Martin, who reminded me
that matzoh is an all-the-time pantry item, not just a seasonal
substitute for bread in a tuna-with-Miracle Whip sandwich.
MATZOH BREI
Pronounced MAT-ZAH BRY, this egg dish
resembles a frittata or tortilla española: eggs, something starchy to
give body, and salt. My father used to say that his secret was "in the
wrist." Now that I make this for my family, I know he was right. I like
this just as it comes from the pan, often with sea salt on top, but Ted
gives it the pancake treatment (maple syrup, in the photo). Serves 6.
6 sheets of plain store-bought matzoh, from the box
6 eggs
Kosher salt
2 Tbsp butter
Place the matzoh in a large bowl, break it up into chunks, and fill
the bowl with lukewarm water. Let the matzoh soak for 2-3 minutes,
until it's soft but not disintegrating. Now for some wrist action: grab
clumps of the soft matzoh, and squeeze out as much water as humanly
possible. Place into another bowl. Repeat until all the matzoh is
drained, and you have a bowl full of matzoh clumps. In another bowl, or
in a large measuring cup, whisk the eggs with 2 tablespoons of water until thoroughly mixed. Pour into the bowl with the matzoh. Add some
salt (start with a heaping teaspoon). Stir everything together.
In a straight-sided non-stick sauté pan over lowest heat, melt the butter, making
sure to coat the bottom and sides of the pan. Pour in the matzoh
mixture, and level with a spatula. Cover, and cook for 10 minutes or
so, checking every now and then to make sure the mixture is not
sticking. When the bottom is brown, either (very bravely) flip the
entire matzoh brei over in one piece, or do what I do and cut it into
quarters. Flip each quarter back into the pan, and cook, uncovered, for
5 minutes or until the bottom is lightly browned and the eggs are set.
Cut into wedges, sprinkle with salt (believe me, it will be needed!)
and serve.
More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Cheesy tarragon omeletta
Asparagus frittata
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