In my family–assimilated as we are–some of us eat matzo more than once a year. This bread of affliction that possesses all the qualitative goodness of dried cardboard shows up in the “ethnic foods” aisle everywhere, year round (alongside other international comfort foods, like Polish kluski, lefse, dulce de leche, kimchee, gefilte fish, canned collards, Heinz salad cream, pickled eggs, and so on), enabling those of us who seek comfort in the kitchen to have it, whenever we want it. The upside? Matzo (daily matzo, as opposed to Kosher for Passover matzo, which is Talmudically different) is cheap, and you can do virtually anything with it: you can crumble it and make stuffing. You can run it through a food processor and wind up with unleavened bread crumbs. You can make a sort of weird grilled vegetable Napoleon with it, if the desire strikes. A box of matzo sitting in the pantry is a sure ticket to all sorts of culinary joy.
The downside? Matzo and water mixed together create a kind of semi-edible spackle that instantly turns into rock-hard cement, making the combination ideal should you ever need to patch a hole in the side of a boat.
But matzo is still comfort food to me the way lutefisk is to a depressed Norwegian, and I, born without a sweet tooth, always lust after my Aunt Thelma’s Matzo Brei–a crazy combination of matzo soaked in egg and set down atop a bed of caramelized, gooey apples. What you wind up with essentially is the kind of thing that Molly Picon would have produced, had you asked her to make you a tarte tatin.
This edible, ethnic security blanket which has coddled and calmed virtually every member of my family for generations, comes with the promise of Absolute Assurance: made by Aunt Thelma’s hand, in her kitchen, in her 1970s stickproof skillet, her Matzo Brei assures us that all will be well. Of course, this is not necessarily a Jewish thing; my Catholic partner feels the same way about her mother’s cream puffs.
Whatever your background, don’t by-pass that stack of on-sale matzos after the Passover holiday is over. Stock up, and the possibilities will be endless. Aunt Thelma’s Matzo Brei is a great place to start.
Aunt Thelma’s Matzo Brei
Aunt Thelma generally uses margarine here, not necessarily because she keeps kosher (she doesn’t), but because it’s habit. I loathe margarine, so I’ve swapped out sweet butter, which aids both in caramelization and in richness. The choice is yours.
Serves 4, in a perfect world
6 matzo boards
4 large eggs, beaten
2 Tablespoons unsalted butter
2 large apples, peeled, cored, and sliced thin
3 Tablespoons sugar
1 Teaspoons cinnamon
1. In a large bowl, crumble the matzo boards into the beaten eggs. Set aside.
2. In a large, stickproof skillet set over medium-high heat, melt the butter. When it begins to foam, add the apples to the pan, reduce heat to medium, and cook for 5 to 8 minutes, until they begin to soften. Sprinkle in the sugar and cinnamon, and continue to cook until the apples begin to caramelize.
3. Pour the matzo and egg mixture directly over the apples, and using a wooden spoon, distribute evenly. Cook for 3 minutes, until the egg mixture begins to pull away from the sides of the pan. Cover and continue to cook for another 5 minutes.
4. Remove the cover, and give the pan a few good shakes. Carefully place a large dinner plate or round platter over the skillet and invert its contents onto the plate; slide the brei back into the pan, apple-side up. Cover, and continue to cook for another 5 minutes.
Slice into wedges and serve directly out of the pan, with warm maple syrup.
