“If an idolator gives a banquet for his son and invites all the Jews in his town, then, even though they eat of their own and drink of their own and their own attendant waits on them, Scripture regards them as if they had eaten of the sacrifices to dead idols…” - Talmud Bavli, Avodah Zarah 8:1
All this recent talk on the blog about choice and continuity in Judaism got me thinking about the Talmudic text quoted above. (Before I front like I’m too cool for school, I readily admit that Hazon’s staff just read this text* during a staff meeting, which is why it’s at the front of my consciousness.)
In my eyes, this - along with a few similarly prohibitive verses - sits as one of the more distressing texts in Jewish tradition because it implies that Jews should not eat with “non-Jews” (in the non-Jew’s home), even if the food they’re eating in that home is otherwise kosher. Why? Because eating symbolizes so much more than filling our bellies - it’s social, it connects us to other people, and it could, as they say, lead to mixed dancing…
More thoughts and a cholent recipe below the jump.
I’m deeply bothered by the extent to which this text goes out of its way to separate me from my non-Jewish counterparts. I understand why a kosher-keeping Jew would abstain from eating non-kosher food at a non-Jew’s (or for that matter a Jew’s) home. But I find it incredibly hard to swallow this text’s mandate to avoid eating a meal with non-Jews at all.
Some observant Jews get around this problem by excluding Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Hinuds from the “idolator” category. Other folks decide that their modern values of pluralism and community trump this “antiquated” passage. Most notably, Orthodox scholar, Blu Greenberg, created guidelines on how to keep kosher in a non-kosher restaurant in order to, “strike that balance between fidelity to one’s own principles and shared friendship and respectful contact with others.” As someone who happily chooses to eat vegetarian in non-kosher restaurants, or in the homes of my non-Jewish friends and my dad’s Christian family, I’ve obviously also chosen to disregard this mandate - I’d be equally happy share a table (mine or theirs) with an atheist or pagan as well.
Still, the text is there - and although it came from a different time, when the existence of being a Jew meant something very different than it does in contemporary America, it’s there, plain as day. It serves as a potent reminder of food’s connective power and, to me, a harsh reminder of what fear looks like.
So - here’s my antidote for fear of the other: cholent. A heady mixture of bulgher, beans, onions, carrots - and traditionally meat - cholent is the ultimate “melting-pot” food. Share it with your friends, whoever they might be.
“Eating with the Enemy” Cholent
Adapted from the Cholent Recipe in Veganomicon: The Ultimate Vegan Cookbook
There are two ways to make cholent - in a pot to eat right away and in a crock pot, which gives you a yummy, hearty Shabbat lunch meal. Both methods are included below.
2 Tbs Olive Oil
1 large onion, cut into medium-dice
3 garlic cloves, minced (eh, why not four?)
1/2 tsp of tarragon
1 tsp of caraway seeds
1 tsp salt
several pinches of freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup vegetable broth
2 bay leaves
1 cup peeled, sliced carrots (about 1/2 inch thick)
2 medium sized potatoes, peeled and cut into 3/4 inch chunks
2 medium sized sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 3/4 inch chunks
1 (15-ounce can) tomato sauce
3 cups water (+ 1 cup vegetable stock for crock pot method)
1/2 cup textured vegetable protein (TVP) chunks
1/2 cup bulgher
1 cup canned and drained lima beans or green peas
1 (15 ounce) can kidney beans, drained and rinsed
Preheat a large soup pot over medium heat. Saute the onions in the oil until translucent, 5-7 minutes. Add the garlic, tarragon, caraway seeds, salt, and pepper. Saute until the garlic is fragrant, about a minute more.
Method One: Pot
Deglaze the pot with the veggie broth. Add the bay leaves, carrots, potatoes, sweet potatoes, tomato sauce, water, TVP, and bulgher. Mix together. Cover and simmer for about 30 minutes, until the potatoes and carrot are tender. Add the lima and kidney beans and cook until heated through. Serve like crazy. Ess gezunterhait.
Method Two: Crock Pot
Deglaze the pot with veggie broth. Pour deglazed mixture into a large crock pot and add bay leaves, carrots, potatoes, sweet potatoes, tomato sauce, water, vegetable stock, TVP, bulgher, lima beans and kidney beans. Mix together and let sit - with the crock pot turned OFF - until about 30 minutes before Shabbat. (This mixture can be made right before, or made in the morning and stored, covered, in the fridge). About 30 minutes before Shabbat, turn your crock pot to either “low” or “keep warm” (Depends on how insane your crock pot is - mine cooks like crazy no matter what, so I leave it on “keep warm”). Let the mixture cook sloooowwwwly, until lunch the next day.
Purchase Veganomicon: The Ultimate Vegan Cookbook here.
* The Talmudic text above is included in a chapter on “Kashrut and Separation” in Hazon’s Adult food curriculum Food for Thought. To find out more about the curriculum, click here.

A tasty looking dish! Very comforting…
Cheers,
Rosa
The text you cite at the top of this post is incredibly problematic for me (as you might imagine.) Once again I appreciate the way the Jew & the Carrot is willing to engage with tough questions when it comes to what we eat and who we are!
Other folks decide that their modern values of pluralism and community trump this “antiquated” passage.
That’s closest to where I’m at — though I’m reluctant to declare Talmud antiquated, in general, and I think there’s tremendous merit in learning it and finding ways to interweave it into our lives. Still, as you say, this text exists, plain as day, and I just can’t accept it. Which places me in an interesting position. At least I’m not alone over here in the “how on earth can I integrate these ideas” camp, I guess!
I couldn’t agree more. The fact is, that Jews at every single stage of history, including the one we live in, have adapted “jewish” traditions to fit the times in which they have lived. One of the reasons I think that Judaism has survived is that,in fact, part of our tradition (among many Jewish circles)is to question how, not just the lives of our ancestors, but also our own lives, relate to Jewish Law and how, with ever-changing circumstances, we can live meaningful and just lives. While many are loath to admit it, there is likely not a single Jew living today who would seamlessly slip into a Jewish community of even 200 years ago and, I would posit, there is not a single Jew alive today who follows every law, as it was set forth in the Torah, without a little bit logistical gymnastics. We know too much for that to make sense. Judaism is a LIVING tradition!
The Jewish tradition of thought and argumentation displayed in the the Talmud is, to a great degree, at the heart of what it is to be Jewish. There are, I think, several ways to consider this issue. I believe that Jewish history is still unfolding and that there is no reason to believe that God’s last word was issued thousands of years in the past. While it may be a bit conceited, I believe that, if the ears of Abraham were holy enough to hear the voice of God, than so are mine and yours. I also believe that our laws are created for the time in which they are issued. As a parent, I set rules for my children that are appropriate to their age. Some of the rules will be useful for the rest of their lives and some will become less and less necessary.
As an organic farmer living in a very non-Jewish community, I come up against the disparity between what Jewish law dictates and what I know to be correct very often. That said, I do try and look deeply at what Jewish law’s objectives might be. Two examples are Kil’Ayim and Pe’ah. As an organic farmer, the laws of Kil’Ayim that prohibit the mixing of seeds and set the distances between my vegetable crops are contrary to what I know to be the practices that best take care of the land I steward. I disregard them simply because I know better. Others have made the claim that the laws only apply to the ancient land of Israel or find other ways around them. They feel the need to justify their decisions within Jewish law. In fact, they are creating a more modern Judaism. Similarly, I could follow the laws of Pe’ah literally and leave the corners of my fields for gleaners but, in these times, doing so would really be a hollow gesture… no-one would come to glean. Instead, I choose to look at the intent of the law and make certain that a significant amount of each year’s crop goes to those in need.
We must also consider that we too can, and should, participate in the tradition of takkanah in order to leave this world better than we found it.
Mike Jacobs
http://www.easybeanfarm.com
Thanks Rosa - it definitely warms you up on a winter afternoon.
No worries, Rachel, you’re definitely not the only one in that camp.
Mike, I love how you’ve found ways to incorporate Jewish values and ideas into your farming. If it makes sense with your schedule, I’d really love to meet you at Hazon’s Food Conference next year (Dec 25-28) - I think you’d be inspired and heartened to meet other farmers across the country who are doing the same thing! http://www.hazon.org/foodconference
Leah,
I would love to, however, as one of those guys in a “mixed marriage” (what marriages aren’t mixed?), Dec. 25th is a hard date to navigate. Perhaps there will be other chances?
Mike
For the non-Americans reading this yummy recipe, can you please clarify exactly what you mean by veggie broth. Sorry if that sounds like a dumb question; it just doesn’t really mean much over here. Thanks.
Veggie broth is basically strained, clear vegetable soup. You can substitute water, or broth made with a little Marmite or Vegemite if you have no vegetable broth handy.
Thanks for the clarification Katie - you can also make a quick broth with bouillion (sp?) cubes or consomme powder. (I’m rather addicted to Israel’s Osem brand despite - or perhaps because - of it being filled with MSG.)
Where are you writing from David? What’s the equivalent phrase for “veggie broth” from where you’re writing?
Thanks for the help. I guess the equivalent is basically vegetable stock cubes (Osem, Telma etc). But, and now I’m getting really confused, if that is broth, what is the “vegetable stock” mentioned further down the recipe, since (unless you make real vegetable stock yourself) isn’t that the same thing as the vegetable broth?
Such confusion from the same language. I’m writing from London, to answer your question Leah. I found your excellent blog through my friend and foodie, Anthony Silverbrow (www.silverbrowonfood.com) who has linked here a few times.
Many thanks, David.
Actually, while I wouldn’t say the text doesn’t have its problems, it does NOT say that Jews can’t eat with non-Jews. What it says is that Jews can’t go to a banquet hosted by an idol worshipper.
1. Idol worshipper is not equivalent to non-Jew. For example, Muslims would NEVER be considered idol worshippers, and according to Western commentators, Christians wouldn’t either.
2. the banquet in question is one which an idol worhsipper gives for his son. It’s likely that a few things are present at this banquet which are what makes it problematic: 1. libations to the idols. Very common ( and by the way, not extinct to,day) it’s the pouring out of wine to the gods. Second there’s the issue of what a banquet for his son is - most likely a wedding or religious feast. In the first case, the problem is mingling in which people may be tempted to match up sons and daughters (i.e. leading to intermarriage with idol worshippers) in the second case, the problem is again, an act of worship or recognition of the (false) gods.
SO the problem is not actually that it forbids us to eat with idol worshippers (invite them to your house! Meet in a religiously neutral place!), however there are of course problems with what we can possibly say when our Hindu neighbor invites us to their son’s wedding. THAT’S when this text becomes a big problem!
Well, when you come to my house for dinner, if I pour libations to the gods, you’re welcome to leave the room and I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come back in. And you don’t have to marry your kid to mine (although if they want to, I’m not about to try to stop them, either).
Hey, the solution - you can just come to my place.
BUt I have to say the DS is way too young to think about marriage.