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“Is there nothing else to eat?” I asked opening the pot on the stove. “No” said mom, “sit down and I’ll fix you a plate.” “No,I don’t like it, I’ll make something.” “What will you make?” Mom insisted, “salad” I answered opening the refrigerator. “But salad is not a meal”.
There are certain dishes that I relate to specific events or holidays. There are those with an obvious connection like Mufleta ( Moroccan pastry) with the day after Passover or Honey cake for Rosh Hashana. Others go with a few dates like burekas to both Shabbat and the Jewish festival of Shavuot, or sweet Moroccan cigars served at the end of Yom Kippur and on Hanukkah, and then there are the everyday dishes. Read more
It doesn’t matter if you know them by Ghriba, Rayvah or Jrieva these cookies are addicting. When I make them I have to hide some so that my family won’t devour them before they are chilled. I can’t really remember the first time I ate them, it seems as if they were always there, part of my mom’s Shabbat cookies. Over time I forgot about them.
The first time I had ever heard about banana bread was from an American friend in Paris way back in the ‘80s. The combination of bread and bananas sounded pretty weird. You put bananas on bread? What’s next, orange bread? “You’ve never had banana bread?” my friend asked in astonishment, looking at me as if I had a deprived childhood.
“No salads?” asked dad as he sat down for dinner on Friday evening. “I didn’t get to it” answered mom, and started detailing what she did get to that day. She cleaned the house, baked two trays of bourekas, 3 trays of cookies and a cake. Even though it might sound like it it was not a lot, we were 5 kids after all.