Passover

Decades ago, as a fledging (broke) New York stage actress, I had the good fortune to be befriended by the film producer Robert Chartoff (“Raging Bull,”  “The Right Stuff,”  “Rocky’s I—VI”). We met on the basis of our identical surnames, but traced our ancestry back to different origins.  It seemed our names were accidentally namesake bastardizations of different, multi-syllabic and multi-Slavic monikers of yore, carelessly abbreviated by uncreative Ellis Island officiates.

Having the same name (although it came from different sources) and feeling like we were kin, felt almost like the miraculous time my malfunctioning checking account was so out of balance, it somehow came out balanced to the penny.  Even a broken clock is correct twice a day. How fortunate for me, who’d been thrilled when Robert first put our name in lights and on the big screen with “They Shoot Horses Don’t They.”

Years ago I was a personal Chef in a private home in a very swank suburb of Boston. My sister got me the interview for the job, I liked the family immediately and they liked me. My job consisted of getting to work at 10 in the morning, quite civilized, I was the last of the “staff” to arrive at the house. I would head to the kitchen to pick up my list from the madame of the house and read the pages of notes and the menu for the dinner that evening.

There was always a shopping list and at the end of the pages she would underline that they were on a very low fat diet with an exclamation mark! A big part of my job was to bake cookies every day to be ready when the two kids came home from school and they had to be “fresh out of the oven”, my choice of what kind, but they had to be piping hot.

I was given an adorable MG convertible to tool around in with my many bags of grocery and a charge account at the local high-end grocery store. I would make dinner for 6 o'clock sharp, clean up and head home for dinner at a later hour. The first day on the job my sister called to ask how was it going so far and what was the house like?

"I love trying different recipes that substitute matzo for flour. It's always interesting to see how they turn out. As you can see, this one turned out well and it tastes good too. I'm kind of a sucker for anything with apples and nuts. The matzo in place of the flour is what gives the cake its light texture. Make sure to squeeze as much water as you can from the shredded apples to keep the cake airy."

Apple Matzo Cake
Adapted from Everyday Food
Serves 6

Nonstick Spray
3 large eggs, separated, plus 3 large yolks
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
3 cups grated Granny Smith apples (from 6 peeled apples), squeezed dry
1 cup matzo meal (make your own by processing plain matzo pieces in food processor until finely ground)
2 teaspoons lemon zest
1 Tablespoon brandy
2 Tablespoons honey
1/4 cup finely chopped pecans

Preheat oven to 350°F. Lightly coat an 8" springform pan with nonstick spray. In a medium bowl, using an electric mixer, beat 6 egg yolks, sugar and salt until thick and pale, about 3 minutes. Fold in apples, matzo meal, lemon zest and brandy.

In another medium bowl, with clean beaters, beat 3 egg whites until stiff peaks form, about 4 minutes. With a rubber spatula, gently fold egg whites into apple mixture and transfer batter to pan. Drizzle with honey and sprinkle with pecans. Bake until golden brown and set in center, 45 to 50 minutes. Let cake cool completely in pan on a wire rack. To serve, run a small knife around edge of pan, remove cake and slice.

– Recipe courtesy of Noble Pig

I hate matzoh. There, I've said it. I may be Jewish but matzoh sure feels like penance to me. It was bad enough my ancestors had to wander through the desert for forty years, but adding insult to injury, they had to eat crumbly crackers with all the flavor of cardboard. I know there are some people who claim to love eating matzoh, but frankly, I don't buy it.

Sure, slathered with butter and liberally sprinkled with kosher salt or cinnamon sugar improves the taste of matzoh, but that treatment would work on just about any kind of tasteless cracker or bread. Don't try to sell me on flavored matzoh. Flavored matzoh tastes artificial. Whole wheat matzoh has to be the worst. I've never heard anyone even claim to like it. It's what I imagine must be served in jails or orphanages.