Feasting is a central component to the celebrations of many, if not most, of the holidays on the Jewish calendar.

I made my first batch of kreplach, noodle dough containing ground meat usually found in chicken soup, in 1972, with my very Greek friend Mary Mastrogeannes, when I was fourteen.

Not only is it almost the beginning of a new year, but the weather is beginning to change and the tomatoes, zucchini and corn that have been so plentiful over the summer are being replaced by squash, apples, pears, figs and a multitude of other autumn fruits and vegetables. The availability of all this fantastic produce has made the High Holidays one of my favorite times on the Jewish calendar to be cooking. This is especially true for Rosh Hashanah, when the food symbolism of the holiday necessitates the use of seasonal fruits and vegetables.

The idea for this post came as I was reading Jane Ziegelman’s fascinating book 97 Orchard: An Edible History of Five Immigrant Families in One New York Tenement.

I wanted to write an Eating Jewish post about Tisha b’Av, yet as I started looking through my various cookbooks, I noticed that most of them had no mention of the holiday. It was often missing from the index and even recipes containing ingredients that would usually be included in a dish prepared on Tisha b'Av had no mention of it. I did find mention of Tisha b’Av in Gil Marks' Encyclopedia of Jewish Food, which devotes an entry to it (there’s a reason I’m constantly referring to this book) as well as in his cookbook The World of Jewish Food.

When I think of Shabbat dinner, one of the first things that comes to mind is the sweet, dense challah that I love so much. It has become so popular that it can be purchased in bakeries all week long, and like many of the iconic Jewish foods of North America (bagels, knishes, pastrami, and smoked meat, to name a few) it was introduced by members of the European Jewish community.

It was a busy weekend here for me in Montreal.

When you ask people to think of Israeli food, more often than not, images of crispy brown falafel will dance before their eyes. Yet, when speaking of quintessential Israeli dishes, falafel does not stand alone. Another dish that is central to the culinary landscape of Israel is schnitzel.

The way in which people choose to break Passover varies enormously and that first taste of chametz can be the non-traditional, but ever popular sushi, or something more rooted in Jewish culinary history like bagels. However, the Moroccan Jewish community ends Passover with a distinctive celebration known as the Mimouna.

So you've spent a week eating matzah with anything you can think of (I have personally eaten it so far with various nut butters, tuna salad, charoset, and jam).

When Passover rolls around, many people bemoan having to eat matzah with only a minority of people actually professing to liking it.

Gefilte fish, these two words make a lot of people turn their noses up in disgust while it can make others salivate.

This cake is not just for Passover, friends. And it's not even just for the Jews. I'm convinced that this is one that everyone will like.

Earlier this month, The Jew and the Carrot published an article by Leah Koenig entitled “Jewish Dishes We Miss: A Top-10 List of Ashkenazi Foods To Bring Back.” Prior to publishing this list, readers were asked to write in with their own suggestions as to which dishes should go on this list and in the end it was made up of the following ten dishes: schmaltz (rendered poultry fat), gribenes (poultry skin cracklings), schav (sorrel and sorrel soup), tongue, mamaliga (cornmeal porridge), russel (fermented beets), eyerlekh (unhatched eggs), belly lox, p’tcha (jellied calf’s foot), and aranygaluska (pull apart cake). I could write blog posts about each of these dishes (admittedly some are more appealing than others) but the one that caught my attention was aranygaluska. The name wasn’t familiar but as soon as I started reading its description I immediately realized that I knew this dessert of cinnamon and sugar covered yeast dough balls, under the guise of monkey bread. This revelation immediately sent me to my stacks of cookbooks and to the Internet to find out why I knew this Hungarian Jewish dessert under another name.

There are many Purim sweets that are modeled after Haman's anatomy or clothing.

With preparation for Purim in full swing, there is no doubt that many people are thinking about Hamantaschen, which has become synonymous with this holiday in North America.

These were my first Hamantaschen. What is a Hamantaschen, you might wonder? These cookies are little three-cornered wonders that puff up into bite-size pastries filled with any number of things, including jam, chocolate hazelnut spread, nuts, dates, and perhaps most commonly, poppy seed filling or prunes. Their triangular shape is sometimes called evocative of the ears of the villain of the holiday of Purim - you guessed it - Haman, who is defeated in the story as told in the Book of Esther.

My congregation is having a big Purim Party on Sunday. They will need about 300 hamantaschen and I am bringing enough dough to make 2/3 of them.

I think it’s safe to say that most of us are pretty sick of winter at this point and if you’re lucky enough to live in a place where you don’t really experience winter, I envy you. This time of year is the one I like the least because despite knowing that spring is almost here, it just can’t come soon enough. We got a small taste of spring in Montreal last week but that was just a tease and we have since fallen back into cold winter weather. Yet, the one good thing about this time of year is the abundance of citrus that’s available.

The debate over the smoked meat of Montreal and the pastrami of New York continues to elicit strong opinions, with ardent supporters on each side. A quick search on Google reveals numerous magazine articles and blog posts comparing the two. However, I should mention from the outset that I’m not here to do that or say which one is better. I’ve never eaten pastrami (I do intend to rectify that on my next visit to New York) so a comparison of the two isn’t possible.

When you choose to purchase a jar of peanut butter with a hecksher on it or kosher chicken, you become one of the final elements in the long journey that the particular foodstuff undertook in order to be certified as kosher. It can be easy to take this process for granted when you are receiving these things in their final form, yet Kosher Nation by Sue Fishkoff highlights this process and provides an in depth look at the modern kosher food industry in the United States.

Although there are no specific dishes that have traditionally been prepared for Tu B’Shevat, the custom of serving dishes that contain fruits and nuts has emerged.

My inspiration for the dishes I write about on Eating Jewish come from a variety of places that range from the numerous cookbooks that I have around my apartment, articles concerning Jewish food in newspapers and magazines, or simply the ingredients that I happen to have on hand at the moment. However, for this dish my inspiration came from my own academic work concerning the Moroccan Jewish community of Montreal.