Tag: memories

Malawach Cheese Pastries with Dipping Sauce

When the Kosher Connection (a group of kosher food bloggers that I belong to) decided on an April Linkup with the theme “The Best Thing I Ever Ate”, I think we were all excited, but equally spellbound. We can all think of at least a hundred foods that make us say “Wow! that was one of the best things I’ve ever tasted!” How could we possible pick only one?!

You’ve probably realized this by now, but I’m a total foodie. There are so many dishes that I could call my favorites! Like my mom’s cheesy lasagna, my Bubby’s stuffed cabbage, or Pardes’s fries with red wine ketchup. There’s also NoiDue’s mac ‘n cheese balls, Jezebels risotto with truffle “butter” and Chef Avram Wiseman’s wild mushroom & duck confit ravioli in demi-glace sauce. To pick just ONE thing and say that that was the best thing I ever ate is practically impossible.

I started thinking about some of my favorite food memories and I realized something. The best thing I ever ate is about more than just the food I put into my mouth at a given time. It has to do with who I was with, and the memories associated with that experience. It has something to do with comfort. Food that didn’t just taste good, but evokes a feeling of nostalgia and sentiment, even years later.

Some of my best food memories were ones I experienced at Bissaleh, an Israeli-style cafe that was located on Coney Island Avenue & Avenue P in Brooklyn. It’s been closed for years now, but it was once a hub of late-night socializing for people of all ages. Back in my teens, my friend Dina and I would go there in the wee hours of the morning, talking and nibbling like there was no tomorrow. We’d usually order stuffed Bissaleh (Israeli-style spiral boreka), classic malawach, or ftut. We’d also get their amazing steak fries on the side, and of course one of their delicious smoothies like banana, date, milk and honey.

While Bissale allowed it’s patrons to experience an array of Middle Eastern delicacies way into the night, it’s practices were especially shady. The fact that they only accepted cash should have given them away, but there was a lot more to be skeptical about. In the back of the restaurant, down a long corridor, there was a secret hookah bar (way before hookah bars were trendy). From the looks of it though, there may have been a lot more than hookah going on there. Up front, Bissale hailed it’s owned psychic, who would tell you your fortune if you agreed to pay for her meal. We actually did it once, and let me tell you, as crazy as that woman was, she told me some things that were right. on. target.

Bissaleh wasn’t the only happening place on the block. In fact, right next door, there was either a sports bar or a gentlemen’s club, I couldn’t quite figure it out. What I did notice though, is that Bissaleh had a picture frame on the wall that they shared with the bar. The picture would slide open, and they’d periodically send over plates of food or drink to the bar next door. Super shady. It should come as no surprise then, when one night, Bissaleh suddenly closed it’s doors for good, right out of the blue.

A few years later, another Bissaleh location popped up in Miami Beach, FL. They have since closed their doors as well, but I was able to find their simliar menu online, which I’ve included here, for your drooling pleasure.

I’ll never forget those late night outings at Bissaleh. Sure it had a lot to do with the amazing food, but it had more to do with the meals spent with an amazing friend, who’s friendship I have cherished for over 20 years. Dina and I shared a lot more than food there. We joked, we laughed, and sometimes, even cried, over malawach dough.

In light of the April Kosher Connection linkup, I invited Dina over for some deconstructed ftut. I told her about my plans to relive our Bissaleh memories on my blog, and to pay homage to our experiences by choosing ftut as “The Best Thing I Ever Ate”. The only problem with my idea was that ftut is not exactly appealing on a plate. It’s chopped up mallawach dough (a buttery, fried yemenite dough that is similar to puff pastry) that’s baked along with cheese, zaatar and sesame. While it’s superbly delicious, ftut still looks like mush on a plate. So I did what any self-respecting blogger would do – I deconstructed it. These melt-in-your-mouth savory rugelach (rolled pastry) are not only prettier, they’re also more fun to eat. One bite and you’ll be wishing that Bissaleh was still around so you could try the real thing.

Ftut was always served alongside a hardboiled egg, pureed tomato sauce, and spicy schug. The schug was spooned into the center of the pureed tomatoes, so that you could dip your ftut in, picking up as much spice as you desired. The dip really rounded out the dish, taking it from good to over the top. You can use store-bought schug, or make your own, using my recipe below.

Give these deconstructed ftut bites a try, and you’ll understand just why I’ve included them in the “Best Thing I Ever Ate” Linkup. For more “Best Thing I Ever Ate” recipes, see the Kosher Connection Linkup below!

1 year ago: crocheted pacifier clip
2 years ago: BBQ pulled chicken sammies

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Remembering Zaidy

While my blog is mostly about food, it’s also so much more than that. My recipes and crafts are an expression of who I am. I could not imagine letting this week go by without sharing with you someone who has had a huge impact on my life and is so near and dear to my heart.

This past Saturday night, on the eighth night of Chanuka, the world lost a special soul. My Zaidy, Rabbi Peretz Hecht, passed away. Zaidy was a 3rd generation American, a real Yankee. Growing up in Williamsburg, he had a serious Brooklyn accent, and commonly used genuine New York slang. He was affectionately called “Daddy” by his children. My grandfather was an extremely hardworking man, but he always found the time to learn Torah. From when I was very young, I remember his dining room table covered in holy books. When Zaidy would learn, he never did so superficially. Each and every sentence was analyzed and questioned. I would watch him sitting with my cousins passionately arguing over every single word in the Gemara. “You gotta fight with the Tosfos!”, he’d say excitedly.

In the late 1960’s, Zaidy opened a printing business, working tirelessly to support his family. When the digital era evolved, his dated printing services were no longer needed, and he went out of business. He returned to his passion for Torah, tutoring Yeshiva boys one on one. Over the years, I’ve met countless bochurim who were lucky enough to learn with my Zaidy. His love, care and understanding touched each and every person he encountered.

My Zaidy was so full of life. He loved to live, and enjoy the good things. Bubby would always try and coax him to eat something healthy, but even in his old age, he would always have his eye on the candy (halva was his favorite!). He had a real passion for music. I’ll never forget when I returned from seminary, my family was in the middle of moving, so I spent the summer months in my grandparents’ home. Each Shabbos, Zaidy and I would sing his favorite tunes. He would sing with all his heart and soul, the melodies rising straight to the heavens. I will forever cherish those moments we shared together.

I never met anyone who could give a bracha like my grandfather. Whenever I went to visit, Zaidy would give me a lengthy blessing. He always got terribly emotional, his voice rising at the end, pleading “Tate zeeseh in himmel, we need Moshiach, let him come already!”

While Zaidy was serious about his learning, he also had the most amazing sense of humor. Whenever he’d get up to speak at family gatherings, he would have everyone laughing until they cried. And then, he would cry. And cry. He just had a way with people, especially young children. They were drawn to his gentle spirit and his smile that could light up a room.

Zaidy was a no-nonsense kind of person. He knew what he meant and he meant what he said. His sincerity was felt by all who knew him. But with all his qualities, humility was Zaidy’s biggest virtue. As a young girl, I remember thinking that my Zaidy was one of the Lamed Vav Tzadikim Nistarim. I was so in awe of his bittul and love for Torah. Over the past few years, Zaidy suffered through a terrible illness that ultimately claimed his life. It is a comfort to know that he is no longer suffering. I have no doubt that his neshama is making it’s journey to the highest realms of Gan Eden.

There is no one like you Zaidy, you will truly be missed! Your legacy lives on in your children and grandchildren. I hope we continue to make you proud!

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