Rabbi Rebecca Joseph is a conservative rabbi, a cultural anthropologist, and a Tuv Ha’Aretz member! Her blog, The Parve Baker is filled with delicious recipes and (equally delicious) words of Torah. This is her second installment of “Unboxed” - posts that demystify summer’s most seasonal produce.  See her first post on rhubarb.

There is something very special about the first pick-up of the Tuv HaAretz CSA season. Having invested in a farmer’s harvest-to-come in the cold dark of winter and then waited patiently through the spring, the initial sight of tables piled high with the first produce of the season is a delight in the midst of the densely built environment. No wonder our ancestors were enjoined to bring offerings of first fruits to the Temple in gratitude for the blessing of the earth’s bounty!

At Congregation Ansche Chesed in New York City last week, new and returning Tuv HaAretz members gathered shares of vegetables, fruit, flowers, and eggs from Eve and Chris Kaplan-Walbrecht’s Garden of Eve farm. Early summer greens prevailed. Red lettuce, mesclun, and arugula went into bags and boxes of all shapes and sizes along with elegant asparagus spears, bunches of red radishes, and a single stalk of rhubarb each. Then there were the leeks. Sturdy and humble in appearance, these gangly onion and garlic cousins fit awkwardly among the leafy beauties.

Leeks really deserve better. Fervently desired at least since the Israelites wandered in the wilderness (Numbers 11:5), ancient Jews favored leeks as healthful seasoning in soups and stews. So did the Greeks and Romans. Among the rabbis, leeks served a religious purpose for some time in an important matter of kashrut:

Rabbi Abbahu said in the name of Rabbi Yochanan: Regarding all [food mixtures] prohibited by the Torah, one should measure them as though they were onions or leeks. Rabbi Abba said to Abaye: Why not measure as though they were pepper or spices, in which case the flavor would not become neutralized even in a thousand-fold? He replied: The Rabbis have estimated that among forbidden substances there is none that can impart a stronger flavor than onions or leeks. (Chullin 97b)

Before the nullification by a sixty to one ratio in volume (bitul b’shishim) was fixed, onions or leeks could be substituted for the amount of the forbidden substance. If the taste of the onions or leeks could be discerned in the rest of the stew, the entire pot’s contents would be prohibited on account of the non-kosher admixture, which was assumed to impart its flavor in very small amounts.

Apicius, the oldest known cookbook surviving in manuscript form, includes the following among its 478 recipes for Roman fare circa the 4th century CE:

“Wash celery, greens and roots, and dry it in the sun; then also cook the tender part and head of leeks in a new pot, allowing the water to boil down to one-third of its volume. Next grind pepper with broth and honey in equal amounts properly measured, mix it in the mortar with the water of the cooked celery, strain, boil again, and serve at once, adding celery, if liked.”

I haven’t tried this at home, but it certainly could be done. In choosing leeks for cooking, I look for firm bulbs and dark green tops. I find smaller leeks more tender than larger ones, but size has no bearing on the taste. Leeks that have gone to seed, like the ones that I brought home last week, are fine. Just remove and discard the tough, tasteless cores.

Leeks can be stored in plastic in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks. Remove the roots when you’re ready to use them, along with the dark green ends of the leaves. Leeks, which grow in the ground, tend to have some dirt between the leaves. Remove any lingering soil by slicing each leek lengthwise, separating the leaves, and then soaking them in cold water. Rinse the leaves before using.

Leeks are more subtle in flavor than onions, shallots or garlic. They still feature prominently in traditional Jewish cooking, especially among Sefardim. Eat them hot or cold, but not raw. Braise or grill them. Add them to soups and stews, as our ancestors did. I used my Tuv HaAretz share in place of onions for Leek Focaccia (recipe), a pita-like flat bread that might just transport you to ancient Rome by way of the Near East.