In Defense of Prunes

Plus a recipe for Harry’s Yemenite Lekvar (Prune Butter)

Shalom from Israel,

A new year brings fresh perspectives, and I've been thinking about redemption stories. These days, I find myself drawn to stories of change and possibility. Not the big, dramatic kind, but the small, everyday transformations that often go unnoticed. Like the humble prune. If your’e like me and looking to flush out the old year and make room for the new, I know just the fruit for the job.

A Fruit by any Other Name

Despite the dried fruit lobby's best attempts, the prune has a PR problem. If we just called them dried plums, no one would balk at the mere mention of this delicious fruit as a cookie filling. It sounds even better if we're referring to the filling as "plum butter," or dare I say, more seductive as the French confiture de pruneaux.

Only in 2001, after petitioning the FDA, plum growers were allowed to market their product as "dried plums" instead of "prunes." The Dried Plum Advisory Board (formerly known as the Prune Advisory Board) really tried their best to get this movement going.¹

The disdain for prunes appears to be deeply ingrained in American culture. Growing up, we've been conditioned to believe that the sole function and purpose of prunes is for old people to eat prunes so they can poop. Movies, sitcoms and cartoons are ripe with obvious prune jokes. We should ignore the immature references to prunes as a means to loosen things up and follow the lead of Star Trek’s resident Klingon Worf instead when he declared prune juice to be ‘A Warrior’s Drink’. Notably, he enjoys it chilled. There's probably someone out there today with fantastic digestive health thanks to these scenes.

No one wants to think about bowel movements when eating a cookie. So let's be a part of the change.

Worf declared prune juice “A Warrior’s Drink”.

From Crusaders to Kugel: A Prune's Journey

While not explicitly mentioned in biblical sources, plums have been part of Middle Eastern cuisine for over 2,000 years, but their true Jewish culinary journey for Ashkenazim begins in 1221, when French crusaders (clearly doing more than just crusading) brought back European plum trees from the Middle East. These weren't your average plums - they needed a long winter chill to bear fruit, making them perfect for Central and Eastern Europe's climate.

By the 16th century, Hungary, Germany, and France became Europe's plum powerhouses, together producing about a third of the world's plums. In these regions, plums ripened around Rosh Hashanah, leading to their incorporation in holiday dishes, particularly in Hungary, Germany, and Austria.

A Prune-Related Persecution (Because of Course)

Here’s a story that could only come from the annals of Jewish history that perfectly captures the significance of prunes in Jewish life. In 1731, David Brandeis, a Bohemian merchant, was thrown in prison for allegedly selling poisoned povidl (prune preserves). After the charges were proven false, he was freed from prison just four days before Purim. The entire city of Jungbunzlau, Bohemia, celebrated his release. His family marked that day as a special holiday - the Povidl Purim. Only in Jewish tradition could a falsely accused prune merchant's liberation become a yearly celebration. Though to be fair, we’ve created holidays out of worse situations.

Beyond the Ashkenazi Kitchen

The magic of prunes extends far beyond Eastern Europe. In Morocco, Jews added prunes to slow-cooked dafina (their answer to cholent), melting the prunes into a sauce that creates an incredible sweet-savory balance with lamb or chicken. Yeah, they know what's up.

Persian Jews use sour prunes (bukhara) in their cooking; Syrian Jews stuff them; and Surinamese Jews (it’s a small South American country. It’s ok. I didn’t know where it was either) incorporate them into their unique Passover haroset with coconut and tropical fruits.

Lest we forget tzimmes - the essential sweet stew of Ashkenazi Jews. Prunes were essential to its character, working alongside sweet potatoes and carrots to create something that was both confusingly dinner and dessert.

In Joan Nathan’s Quiches, Kugels, and Couscous, she features a recipe from the Alsace region, where prunes are combined with chestnuts and onions in a dish that perfectly bridges sweet and savory and in Gil Mark’s A Treasury of Vegetarian Recipes from Jewish Communities Around the World, I learned that Georgian Jews make a dish called Lobio Tkemali, where red beans dance with a sour prune sauce made from particularly tart Caucasian prunes.

Making Lekvar: No Longer a Team Sport

The leaf garnish really brings it all together.

One of my favorite Jewish desserts is the flodni, a lesser-known magnificent multi-layered Hungarian pastry where prunes play a starring role in the form of lekvar (prune butter) along with walnuts, apples and poppy seeds. While the cake was amazing, the real revelation was discovering the next day that leftover lekvar with real butter on morning toast is the tops.

Traditional lekvar was made by boiling pitted fruit outdoors in large kettles for three to four hours until thick, with people taking turns stirring with wooden spoons to prevent scorching. The result was stored in crocks to last through the winter. Today's versions tend to be sweeter, with added sugar serving as both preservative and thickener. But the principle remains the same: low and slow is the way to go. Modern stove tops may have changed this communal tradition (group activity?) into a solo endeavor, but every time I stir a pot of slowly simmering prunes, I’m thankful I don’t have to include anyone else. Some traditions are better left in the past.

Nobel Prize-winning writer S.Y. Agnon captured the emotional power of prunes in Jewish cooking in his 1939 book, A Guest for the Night, when he wrote, "the smell of warm povidl, which had been put away in the oven, sweetened the air of the house. For many years I had not felt its taste or come across its smell - that smell of ripe plums in the oven, which brings back the memory of days gone by, when Mother, may she rest in peace, would spread the sweet povidl on my bread.”

You’ll find my contribution to the prune renaissance below. Don't worry about exactly replicating historical recipes, Jewish cooking has always been about adaptation. Our ancestors used prunes because they were practical, available, and delicious. We should use them for the same reasons, but with our own twist. Add rose or orange blossom water to your lekvar. Double the dill in your dafina. I believe in you.

Join me in restoring the prune to its rightful place in our culinary repertoire, not just as a humble dried fruit, but as a versatile ingredient that connects us to centuries of Jewish cooking. And if nothing else, it'll keep things moving along nicely.

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Harry’s Yemenite Lekvar (Prune Butter)

This thick, fragrant fruit butter originated in Central Europe, where it has been used for centuries as a pastry filling and spread. This updated version incorporates the warming Yemenite spice blend hawaij, adding a rich, aromatic twist while keeping the traditional character intact.

Total Time: 45 minutes
Yield: About 2 cups

Ingredients

• 1 pound (454g / 2 cups) pitted prunes

• 1 cup water

• ¼ cup orange juice

• ¼ cup brown sugar (optional)

• 1½ teaspoons hawaij spice blend (see below)

• 1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise (or 1 teaspoon vanilla extract)

• 1 strip orange zest (about 2 inches long)

• 1 strip lemon zest (about 2 inches long)

• ¼ teaspoon kosher salt

Instructions

1. In a medium saucepan, combine prunes, water, orange juice, and hawaij spice blend. Bring to a boil over high heat.

2. Add vanilla bean (if using), citrus zests, and salt. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 20-25 minutes, until prunes are very soft and most liquid has been absorbed. Prunes should be easily mashed with the back of a spoon.

3. Remove citrus zests and any large vanilla bean pieces. Add brown sugar (if using) and cook uncovered for another 5 minutes, stirring frequently to prevent sticking.

4. Transfer mixture to a food processor. If using vanilla extract instead of a bean, add it now. Process until smooth, scraping down sides as needed.

5. Return the mixture to the pan and cook over low heat, stirring constantly, until it is very thick and pulls away from the sides of the pan, about 5 minutes. Texture should be thick enough to hold its shape when scooped with a spoon.

6. Let cool completely before using. The mixture will thicken further as it cools.

Notes

• Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks or freeze up to 6 months.

• Perfect as a filling for hamantaschen, kolaches, strudel, and other Central European pastries. Also delicious as a spread on toast or mixed into yogurt.

• For a silky texture, press the mixture through a fine-mesh sieve after processing.

• If the mixture becomes too thick while cooking, add water one tablespoon at a time until desired consistency is reached.

• To make your own hawaij blend: combine 2 tablespoons ground ginger, 2 tablespoons ground cardamom, 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon, ½ teaspoon ground cloves, ¾ teaspoon ground nutmeg, and ¼ teaspoon ground mace. Store in an airtight container.

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1. Evidently, the California Dried Plum Board (formerly known as California Prune Board) is once again embracing the prune and are once again known as the California Prune Board.