In his blog Torah Flora, Dr. Jon Greenberg shares his unique insights and vast knowledge on Judaism and plants (or as he more articulately puts it, “biblical ethnobotany”). Some of us had the chance to witness that knowledge first hand today at the New York Botanical Garden, where Dr. Greenberg gave an enthusiastic group a “Torah Flora Tour.”

The goal of the tour (and blog), according to Dr. Greenberg, is to “use knowledge of plants and nature to better understand Torah and Halacha.” He cites a long-lost relationship during the biblical era between Judaism and nature, and a wish to reconstruct it.

Turns out this relationship goes well beyond the obvious of using Lulav and Etrog on Sukkot and bitter herbs on Pesach (though he discussed those as well, with exhibits A, B, and C proudly on view). This symbiosis exists in ways we have overlooked in our learning, in the very language of Tanach. Dr. Greenberg quoted Devarim in comparing a bitter man to wormwood, and wondered about the true identity of the desert Juniper in Jeremiah. It seems we’ve always turned to our green, leafy friends, for culinary, spiritual, and literary inspiration!

With every plant we passed, Dr. Greenberg pointed out its identifying marks and place in Jewish history (confirmed and fabled; Legend has it that it was a Jewish friend who showed Thomas Jefferson how to eat tomatoes…), and threw in some fun facts to sweeten the deal. He quoted sources with impressive speed and skill, citing the Talmud, Rambam, and Josephus in his fascinating botanical history lesson. Eventually, my intended event-reporting soon became a long list of “Who Knew?” facts and ideas I couldn’t wait to share on JCarrot!

For instance, while many Midrashic sources list the four species of Sukkot as metaphorical representations of people or senses, the Rambam sees them in an entirely original light: as an agricultural history of the Jews: The Lulav (date palm) grows in the desert, where the Jews wandered for forty years. The Aravot (willow) is a water-loving plant which finds its home on river banks, and represents our people’s crossing of the Jordan River on their way to Israel. The Hadasim (myrtle) grows in the Israeli highlands, where the people eventually spread out and settled, and the Etrog (citron, a cultivated fruit) represents the orchards that finally signaled the Jews’ agricultural growth in the land.

But the lessons didn’t end with interpretations of Judaic ritual items, oh, no. Some of the highlights of the tour were the “fun facts,” the stuff we might not use but sure are glad to know! For example, did you know that the word “scallion” comes from the Latin name for it, “Ascelonium”, so-called since the plants were imported from Ashkelon? I sure didn’t. Or that the original Maror (bitter herbs) probably wasn’t horseradish at all, but sea holly, the “prickly lettuce?” Dr. Greenberg and his wife offered us some samples of this spicy plant. Man, is it bitter. It could kick wasabi and romaine lettuce both to the curb come Hillel sandwich season. Funny thing is, sea holly starts out sweet. But as it matures, it becomes bitter and spiny, until it reaches a point where it’s no longer edible; just like the Jews’ experience in Egypt started pleasantly and ended in unbearable oppression!

As we walked among the rows of flowers and fruit, grateful that temperature had dropped a few degrees for the occasion (“I’ve got connections up there,” Dr. Greenberg joked), we came across familiar plants with hidden stories. “Not all of our favorite vegetables were always popular,” Dr. Greenberg shared, explaining how potatoes and tomatoes, both members of the Nightshade family, were once thought to be poisonous. In fact, eggplant took quite a while to find an audience. Quoting an Italian source from the 1890’s, he told us how the purple food was described as “a disgusting vegetable fit only for Jews.” Gee, thanks, guys. I’ll take that Eggplant Parmesan to go.

Dr. Greenberg spoke with such aplomb and excitement; it made me glad that I’d driven across the Throgs Neck Bridge to be there. Where else could I have heard so much about our shared history with nature? Next time I’m choosing my farmers’ market apricots, I’ll think for a moment about how some sources identify it as the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge in Eden.

At one point, we arrived at an ordinary, flowering sage plant.

“What does this look like to you?” Dr. Greenberg asked.

“A Menorah!” some brave or eager volunteer announced.

“Exactly. And where did we light the Menorah?”

“In Jerusalem, on Har HaMoriah.”

“Right. ‘Moriah’ is Hebrew for ‘sage.’”

Wow.

Dr. Greenberg will be speaking next at the Association of Orthodox Jewish Scientists in Southbury, Connecticut on Sunday, July 25^th. Those interested can register for the event at aojs.org.

Right now, the dill is taking over my herb garden in its lovely, flavorful and feathery bloom. My attempts to use it don’t usually make a dent in the amount growing, even as I leave plenty to seed next year’s crop, or to share with the next interested gardener. Mostly, I have been cutting it into salads. I could also add it to butter, or make pickles, or hang some upside down to dry. The dill is everywhere, self seeding from beautiful, zebra-colored seeds given to me a few years ago by a patient who also grows startlingly lovely lavender roses.

The other day I was listening to the radio and heard someone say “dill pesto”. I perked up and quickly jotted down the ingredients: dill, cheddar cheese, scallions and walnuts. “Wow. Now we’re talking!” Pesto is one of those things that I formerly associated only with basil, which I adore in the most celebratory sense of the word. But my horizons were about to be widened. I checked out “dill pesto” on line, and found a recipe that included parmigiana, pine nuts, and garlic, in other words, dill-substituted basil pesto. That was not what I wanted. If I were to make that recipe, I would forever compare it with the basil version. The idea of a completely different set of ingredients appealed more.

I pulled out the mini-food processor (an attachment to the immersion blender, thank you, Mom and Dad) and collected my ingredients. I packed in cup dill, chunks of a piece of soft (room temperature) cheddar about 1 x 2 x 3 inches, cup pumpkin seeds (nut-free house), and 2 very small onions (1-inch diameter) that came from East Side Veggies, my local CSA.� The result looked nice, but a bit dry, so I added 1 tablespoon of olive oil and set the processor awhirl again.� Then I scooped the pesto into a little dish, added a small spoon, and let it sit for a while to allow the flavors to blend.� An hour later, the contrast between the warm pink salmon and the kelly green pesto became a feast for our eyes, and the gentle, insistent flavor of the pesto turned our beautiful salmon, baked under a heaping pile of sliced raw onions, into a very special celebration.� The leftover pesto awaits scrambled eggs this morning.� Gotta go.

And a quick reminder.� Remember to jot down a few words and send in a comment for the TEN-THOUSAND HITS contest!� �The deadline is this Wednesday, June 16th.� If you would prefer to stay anonymous, just say so.� You can still win, and the prize of 2 �gourmet� soaps from www.sarvasoap.com is a very special.� Check out their beautiful selection of spa, gallery, premium, holiday, rustic,�and men�s soaps to see for yourself.

So you promised your boss you would go to work 1/2 day Monday, but you haven’t finished your shopping for the big night.  It’s Chicago.  It’s winter.  OK technically it’s Spring, but we’re all still wearing parkas and fantasizing about the sun returning.  And most importantly, the farmers’ market season in Chicago doesn’t really being until April.

Or does it?

A little-known gem is thriving right under your L stop in downtown Chicago!  Chicago’s Downtown Farmstand, located at 66 E. Randolph Street, is practically under the Randolph/Wabash stop, across from the Millenium Metra Train station, and open 6 days a week ALL YEAR.

I had to move back to my hometown after living in Santa Monica, CA for 9 years and the first culture shock was the absence of farmers’ markets from November-April.  In my sluething, I was directed here.  However “here” was embarrassingly difficult to find.  Meaning- when I finally found it, I gave myself the requisite thump on the head because it’s not terribly hidden – but I’ve since learned I’m not the only one who spent many weeks driving/walking past it without noticing it.  It’s part of a larger structure of community galleries, meeting rooms, etc.  So stick to your guns and remember “66 E. Randolph” and you’ll notice the lovely neon sign calling you into the little magical wonderland inside…

The mission here is to carry produce, meat, and baked goods grown, raised, baked within 250 miles of Chicago.  And it works.  I can get a full week’s worth of groceries here due to the variety offered.  And being vegetarian, I’m excluding some of the vendors.

So- what’s good for Passover?  Each week I get BEAUTIFUL greens for salads from Living Water Farms.  Add on onions, mushrooms, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes – the expansive vendor list can be seen online here: CDF Vendor List

Need vanilla?  How about some coffee extract? Rose Water?  You can find a solid variety of vanillas, sugars, extracts from the incomparable Waukegan-based, Kosher, Nielsen-Massey Vanillas.  They even have stacks of recipes at their display in case you are looking for an excuse to buy that Rose Water but have no clue what to do with it (like me).

More kosher yummy can be found in the front refrigerated section – top shelf – Futters Nut Butters. I can’t stop raving about their amazing chocolate nut butters – wow.

Some of my favorite items at this farmstand come from Nicole’s Divine Crackers.  Not kosher, but healthy, unleavened, organic and – wow – I just met her last week (more on that later) – this woman and her business partner “Little Grace” have a lot of chutzpah starting a new bakery/career when they were in their late 50′s (Nikki is now approaching 85).  Get some of Nicole’s “In Your Wildest Dreams” crackers (cranberry & pepper!) to munch on before sundown and then come back next week for more!

So – stop by this hidden year-round farmer’s market during your lunch break or on your way home Monday.  I’m sure you’ll find goodies to add local, organic love to your seder.  And if you need any help, the staff there is friendly, knowledgeable, and passionate about their farmers, their produce, and you.

…during the winter

…on a day other than Saturday

Those of us organic, sustainable foodies in Chicago are keenly aware of the famous Green City Market which stays open year-round by moving into the Nature Museum November-April.  But for us who observe Shabbat, the Saturday-only schedule they keep in the in winter months is sad news indeed.

So I finally kvetched – kvweeted? – to all the Chicago farmers market Tweeps I follow about how Jews are blocked from farmers market goodness in the winter.

The good people at The Local Beet promptly directed me to 2 markets, The Downtown Chicago Farmstand (open daily) and The Logan Square Farmers Market (Sundays 10am-1pm).  So I ran- ok I took 2 buses- to Logan Square last Sunday.  Tucked away in the Congress theatre at 2135 N. Milwaukee Avenue (just north of Armitage), here is what I found-

First I found none of the baked goods nor meats were kosher – so this won’t be your stop for Passover matzah, lamb, cheese, or macaroons if you adhere to rules of kashrut.  But the produce is fresh, organic, and local.  The baked goods are created using local ingredients.  Everything is grown, stirred, canned, and baked with love. So here we go…

First stop? Logan Square resident, Sarah Marino, from Oak Park’s Reform synagogue, B’nai Abraham Zion.  She stood behind a table directing shoppers where they could find each item for their seder.  Brilliant!

Next? Mushrooms! wow- beautiful, healthy, gorgeous mushrooms compliments of River Valley Ranch.

Across the way, the incomparable Paula Jeremias of Tiny Greens is juicing wheat grass and clipping fresh sprouts- sunflower, broccoli, arugula (yum!), onion, alfalfa… any of these turn a bowl of mixed greens into a gourmet entree.  Not to mention sprucing up that seder plate – something other than parsley would be a nice change, no?

Moving on…past the artisan cheeses, french baguettes, herbal teas, macaroons (more on these later)… Apples! Baskets and baskets and baskets of beautiful, apples from Hillside Orchards in Michigan.

Next stop? Free Range eggs from chickens fed organic greens while living at Tempel Farms.

Across the way, is the lovely Anne Kostroski of Crumb with her homemade matzah made with eggs and honey from this market!  Sadly it is not kosher for Pesach – she explained to me this is something she’s made for her family seders for years, and finally this year she decided to bring it to the market.  It’s the BEST matzah you’ll ever eat, I promise. 1/2 dozen pieces are $4, Dozen is $8.  If you’d like to learn more about Anne and her matzah, check out Brad Moldofsky’s article This is NOT your Mother’s Bread of Affliction.

Next to Anne is the Elgin-based, Dennanne Farms.  They have the most extraordinary soaps- seriously, get your clean on at with Denny & Anne Bukala while grabbing yummy honey to make your own homemade matzah.

After the sweet, is the savory of Herbally Yours.  I picked up a bottle of their Rosemary Garlic vinegar and have enjoyed the best salads all week.  Their Basil Oregano Vinegar is ridiculous (and award-winning).  And, of course, these herbs and more can be purchased from them sans vinegar.  Just ask.  He LOVES his product and the herbs and will insist you taste everything he’s got.  And it’s all amazing.

So that’s all that’s safe for Passover – not counting the matzah – but I wonder if the love and care put into this matzah could possibly be considered worthy of kosher status – just minus the official man officially supervising the love and care…so I had to mention it.

One more worth mentioning, but not kosher for Pesach, Macaron Chicago – Beth Jacob handcrafts these little lovelies and ohhhhh that Mayan Chocolate one is out of this world delight.  When shopping Sunday morning, stop by, grab a box or two (or 5), to munch on while cleaning and prepping Sunday night and Monday afternoon.  You will be so happy you did!

So this was late posting- sometime technology gets the better of me (like spilling soda on my dear little mac – thank goodness for the computer fix-it saints in that basement shop around the corner from me).  Hopefully you’re reading this as you sip your morning coffee Sunday thinking “gosh I wish I could go to a farmers market this morning instead of Whole Foods”.  Go! Enjoy!

Edible wild plants have been an essential part of the local diet here in the Galilee going back to the stone age hunters and gatherers.  I have learned from neighbors in the nearby Bedouin villages which plants are good to eat, where to find them, and how to prepare them.  One of the staples, which is considered a seasonal delicacy, is wild chicory – known in Arabic as elet, and in Hebrew as olesh.  It can be found around the edges of fields – a low-growing starburst of scalloped leaves.  And it is considered to be extremely healthy – good for “cleaning the blood”, as my Bedouin friends have explained.

Going out and gathering is not as commonly practiced in the traditional Arab cultures of the Galilee as it once was – yet the taste for elet remains.  Now enterprising farmers have started to cultivate elet and other edible wild plants, and sell them in the local Arab green grocers.

Since it was too muddy to go out picking, I bought my elet in Kfar Manda, and cooked it up the traditional way – washing, chopping it, cooking it in boiling water for a few minute to take out the bitterness, then sautéing it with lots of chopped onion in a profusion of olive oil.  It did not disappoint!

Next week I’ll be leading an edible wild plants cooking day with a Bedouin guide here in the Galilee.  For more information, see my website www.galileecuisine.co.il

A group of Jewish food lovers, a spread of delectable dishes, and milkshakes made of laughter. If it were possible for one afternoon to be too good, this is where it would start.

A group of Jew & the Carrot writers, editors, and friends faced the risk—overflowing goodness and all—this past Sunday. Of course, it all started with the food. I arrived at host Avigail’s Clinton Hill, Brooklyn apartment to find hand-layered ratatouille swirling from the center of a clay baking dish, crusty homemade beer bread, a cake topped with the purple velvet of baked plums, aromatic rosemary bread, peach-basil salad, and made-from-scratch yogurt. That alone nearly tipped the scales to the side of the too good. Did I mention that we washed this down with homemade sparkling ginger-grapefruit juice? Spiked with gin?

Yes, this was dangerous.

The gathering was innocently planned as a way to put a concrete face to virtual relationships. All Jew & the Carrot writers were invited, and a small but chatty crew of us made it through the heat and the tangle of summer conflicts to be there. Mia-Rut, a Jew & the Carrot blogger, and the host, a member of the Hazon staff, did most of the cooking, with contributions from The Jew & the Carrot supporters Noam and Rachel. (Coming from upstate and dragging a suitcase, I opted to bring beer).

Once the group started to nibble, the conversation began: Tragic and amusing stories of refrigerators dying on us; the going rate for recipes on MyJewishLearning.com; the joys of dumpster diving fresh ginger.

Just as our palates felt ready for some dessert to follow our cake, chocolate emerged in the hands of Hazon intern Alona and friend Joanie. So did the laughter “milkshakes,” which were actually an exercise led by the two cocoa-bearers that stemmed from the practice of Laughter Yoga. A little later came a beautiful blueberry-peach crumble and tangy pesto courtesy of Roberta, who had been hard at work testing recipes for a vegan Jewish cookbook.

Somewhere in there, of course, something had to go wrong. And it did.

At first, most of us just felt a light splatter. Then we realized we’d just heard the loudest plop-splat!that ever resounded on Clinton Avenue. We looked toward the sound to see the destruction: A container of leftover ratatouille tragically hurled to the ground from a precarious spot in the refrigerator, with sauce and errant vegetable slices scattered on the floor.

Then, with one look at Adam, came the full realization of the level of disaster.

Adam’s white shirt had become something between a botched Pollock canvas and a clumsy butcher’s apron. Echoes of the ruined shirt could be found in splotches on the couch, on our shins and forearms, and even in our hair and on a few faces. The trajectory of the sauce astounded us.

While I’m sure we had all been brought to tears by cooking exploits gone wrong (or, in Tamar’s case, had bawled as we cooked a version of that doomed dish), we all chose to laugh. Really, there was nothing that could upset the mood set by boisterous conversation, community gathering, and wholesome food.

If you’d like to capture some of that goodness, here are a few of the recipes from the get-together. Feel free to give them a try, but please—do be careful!

First, of course, the ratatouille.

The recipe is actually for “Confit Byaldi,” taken from a recipe by Thomas Keller in The New York Times. Here’s the recipe.

Next up:

Rosemary Loaf Cake

From Nigella Lawson’s How to be a Domestic Goddess: Baking and the Art of Comfort Cooking (page 9)

This is a dense, buttery, slightly pungent loaf, very savory/sweet.

Ingredients

1 cup of soft, unsalted butter

3/4 cup sugar

3 large eggs

1 1/3 cups self raising flour*

1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 tsp. vanilla extract

Needles from a 4-inch stalk of rosemary, chopped small, but not too fine

4 Tbs. milk

1-2 Tbs. rosemary sugar (fresh rosemary placed in sugar. You can make a quick version by simply pressing the sugar and rosemary together with your fingertips – releasing the oil from the rosemary)

9 x 5-inch loaf pan, buttered and lined with parchment paper.

*To make self-rising flour: add 1.5 tsp. baking powder, and 1/2 tsp of salt for every cup of all-purpose flour. Mix well.

Method

Preheat the oven to 350F

Cream the butter, adding the sugar when it is very soft. Cream together until both are pale, smooth, and light. Beat in the eggs one at a time, folding a spoonful of the flour after each addition, then add the vanilla. Fold the rest of the flour in using a rubber spatula and then add the rosemary.

Thin the batter by adding the milk (you want a soft, dropping consistency). Pour into the waiting pan. Sprinkle the top with rosemary sugar.

Bake for around 1 hour, or until a cake tester comes out clean.

Leave to cool on a wire rack, in its pan. When completely cold, unmold and wrap in foil until you eat it.

And, finally, the yummy bread.

Beer Bread

As described by the creator:

I usually make my beer bread by feel.  It was just yeast (1 packet) and a little flour and some warm water to get the yeast activated (or make a “sponge”). When that is bubbly, I add a pinch of salt, more flour (I use a 50% unbleached 50% whole wheat mix) and a very hoppy beer (like an IPA, or sometimes a dark or nut beer goes well) until it forms a cohesive dough.  Knead, adding more flour or beer as needed.  The person who taught me to make bread said the taste is in the texture so you want to have done this in enough time to let it rise a few times then punch down and knead again.  I like to shape my dough into a ball and let it rise on the baking sheet a little before putting it in the oven.  I’ve baked at various temperatures (usually based on whatever I just had in the oven because I like my bread to be the last thing to finish and serve it hot right out of the oven), but it should be golden brown and the bottom should sound hollow when tapped.

What if you knew that the organic vanilla that you were using in your recipe was not only kosher, but was grown by farmers who would not, under any circumstances, work in their gardens, harvest their trees or deliver their crop from 18 minutes before sundown on Friday until tzeit hakochavim (the appearance of three stars in the sky) on Saturday—with the same applying to all Jewish Festivals.

What if you knew that these farmers live in the deepest regions of  sub-Saharan East Africa in the area Mbale, Uganda, and that their farming cooperative consisted of Jewish, Muslim and Christian members called Peace Kawomera?

What if you knew that these farmers were being paid two and a half times the fair trade price for their beans, because a volunteer organization run by a hazzan (cantor) in Los Angeles removes the middle-man and makes every attempt to allow the farmer to receive the most that he/she can?

What if you knew that this organization, Uniting Jewish Communities and Products, UJCP, is attempting to do this for as many communities as possible throughout the world, helping them become self sufficient, providing clothes, housing, health care and education.

Wouldn’t this be a recipe (excuse the pun) that would continue to elevate our kitchen table from the mundane to the mizbeach, the ordinary to the altar of values and holiness that we are meant to accomplish every time that we sit down to eat?

You probably expect me to end with a sales pitch for a product—that is not the intent of this blog. We don’t yet have a product to sell—we are just helping.  And have made a commitment to continue to help.  The company that has purchased 3.5 metric tons of dried vanilla (constituting 21 metric tons of raw beans purchased directly from the farmers) is called Natural Flavors, Inc. in Newark, New Jersey. They are using the vanilla as concentrate to use in various organic, kosher products.  It is my brother, Herb Stein’s company, and though he has all the vanilla that he can use from established sources in India and Madagascar, Herb is willing to continue the process of buying from the Peace Kawomera cooperative.  A company called AMFRI Farms in Kampala then dries the beans, bought directly by Herb from the coop.  This has been a cooperative effort that will end, hopefully in the PK farmers taking complete control of the process—growing, harvesting and drying all on their own.

Other agencies and organizations have been helping as well.  Kulanu (along with UJCP) has worked hard to get training and building a facility for the co-op.  Recently they have been awarded a grant to build a building that can be used to dry and store coffee and vanilla!

The purpose of my blog is to keep you informed of the progress that we are making in helping first the Ugandan Jewish communities, and then others, in finding ways to sell their products so that they can lead more self sufficient lives.  We are in need of volunteers—those with business, accounting, PR and website building (we don’t have a home page yet) skills.  Or those that know of a buyer for vanilla, coffee and the many other products that grow in the region.

We read in the Torah this week about treating the worker fairly—we as Jews should take the lead in making sure that no one is left without basic necessities in a world in which poverty is increasing at alarming levels.   When we prepare and partake of our food, think of how rewarding it would be to support those that grow and labor to support our needs.

We are in the middle of negotiations for December’s vanilla crop.  I’ll keep you posted.

Locavores in Los Angeles should take note of a class, California Native Seasonings and Condiments offered by the Theodore Payne Foundation from 2 to 3:30 p.m., Saturday, Aug. 29.

Taught by Connie Vadheim, an adjunct professor of biology at California State University at Dominguez Hills, the class will be a discussion of native plants that can be used to flavor and enhance your food.  Recipes will be provided.

The class costs $20 for foundation members and $30 for nonmembers.  It will be held at the Payne Foundation, 10459 Tuxford St., Sun Valley, CA 91352. For information, call (818) 768-1802.