Pumpkin and the Jews

Plus a recipe for a sage-infused brown butter pumpkin bread

Shalom from Israel,

Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers in the United States! And a heartfelt thank you to those who have already become paid subscribers - your support means so much.

If you enjoy these stories and recipes exploring Jewish food heritage and Israeli culture, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. For the price of one cup of coffee in New York per month (or two cups pretty much anywhere else), you'll help sustain this newsletter and keep this culinary journey going forward.

Book an Online Latke Masterclass for your Community

For the past five years, I have been hosting Online Latke Masterclasses for Jewish communities around the world. We cook together, share stories, and create a warm, engaging experience for all ages. 

By booking a class you're creating a meaningful experience to connect to Jewish tradition; supporting small Israeli businesses during challenging times, and forgning connections with Jewish peoplehood and Israel through food, culture, and tradition.

I’d like to ask you to:

1. Share this with your synagogue or community organizations;

2. Connect me with anyone you know in synagogue leadership, Jewish education, or community programming;

3. Forward this to friends who might be interested in organizing a class for their communities.

Find all the details about my classes right here and then share this page with all your good people. 

I look forward to cooking with you!

From my kitchen to yours, with gratitude,

Harry

---

The Main Course: Pumpkin Tales

Let's talk about pumpkin spice. I'm not here to debate whether it belongs in everything (it almost does) - in fact, I'm sipping Tazo Pumpkin spice chai as I write this. Pumpkin spice Oreos? Bring them. M&Ms? Yes, please. Pumpkin spice Pop Tarts? Let me introduce you to my mouth. That factory made supermarket pumpkin pie? I'll demolish it right out of the box, no questions asked, fork or no fork. And while Trader Joe's might have crossed a line with their Pumpkin spice hummus (now in its fifth controversial year), I'd still try it. Living in Israel keeps me safe from the marketing minions of Big Pumpkin Spice - which is probably good given my impulse control issues with sweets (blame the no-sugar-cereal rule from my childhood).

While you can definitely find a seasonal Pumpkin spice latte in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem these days, that's about it. Here, pumpkin is firmly in savory territory - and has been for centuries. 

The pumpkin's journey into Jewish cuisine is yet another story of our people doing what we do best: looking at something new and immediately asking, "but can we make it kosher?" When explorers brought pumpkins back from the New World in the 16th century, Jews were among the first Europeans to embrace it. Because if there's one thing we excel at (besides asking questions), it's adapting cuisine to our needs.

And, in the case of pumpkin, it checked all our boxes:

• Could be stuffed (if it exists, Jews will stuff it)

• Could be used as stuffing (see above)

• Made excellent soup (are you sensing a pattern?)

• Worked as a meat substitute when needed (which was often)

But it's in Sephardic and Mizrahi cuisine where pumpkin really gets to party. From North Africa to Central Asia, every Jewish community found its own way to celebrate this versatile fruit. Iraqi, Indian, Kurdish and Tunisian Jews all have their own versions of sweet pumpkin jam that graces Rosh Hashanah tables. Libyan Jews serve pumpkin couscous that would make any Instagram food influencer weep. Kurdish Jews ladle out pumpkin kubbe soup that could warm even my darkest of hearts. Moroccan Jews have their pumpkin soup, which evolved into marak katom (literally 'orange soup'), now a beloved staple in Israeli homes and on cafe menus.

The Italian Jews? They went all in: frittelle di zucca (pumpkin fritters that put latkes on notice), zucca Disfatta (pumpkin puree that makes mashed potatoes look basic), and budino di zucca gialla (pumpkin flan that deserves its own holiday). Then there's pan de calabaza - a boldly yellow Sephardic pumpkin bread that makes regular challah look like it didn't study for the test. But the crown jewel of Jewish pumpkin pastries has to be the Bukharian Kadoo bishak. These triangular pastries are filled with cumin-spiced pumpkin (not pumpkin spice), onion, garlic, and just a touch of sugar.

Speaking of cultural adaptation, American Jews did what American Jews do best - they took something familiar to their non-Jewish neighbors and gave it a kosher twist. While everyone else was eating pumpkin pie after Thanksgiving turkey, Jewish homemakers were figuring out how to make a pareve version that wouldn't make you miss the dairy.

The real MVPs here were the Jewish women's organizations of the 1950s and 60s. Flip through their spiral-bound community cookbooks (you know the ones - held together by food stains and optimism), and you'll find pumpkin pie with “melted margarine” and a “pareve milk substitute” Nothing says American Jew quite like taking something that absolutely should not be pareve and saying, “hold my margarine, I got this.” 

I found what might be the first pumpkin pie recipe in a Jewish cookbook from 1918 called The International Jewish Cookbook by Florence Kreisler Greenbaum. There I found a pumpkin pie recipe that would make your bubbe proud:

You might notice that whipped egg whites are folded in resulting in a much lighter version of the pumpkin pie than we are familiar with.

And since the story of the pumpkin began in the New World, I'd thought we would go back to where it all started: North America. I decided to forgo the major American Jewish cookbooks on my shelf and go niche: More of a pamphlet than a cookbook, I present Louisiana Kashrut, Stories and Recipes from the Jewish South. Here, I found a recipe for a sweet potato challah that perfectly captures how Jewish cooking evolves through embracing local ingredients while honoring tradition. 

I decided to give the original recipe a personal twist, bringing together the sweetness of American Jewish baking with the aromatic herbs that grow local. This challah-type bread is what happens when the Old World meets the New, and then moves to the Middle East. 

Instead of sweet potato, I chose pumpkin puree. For a richer and nuttier flavor, I browned the butter and infused it with wild sage leaves (from my local community garden, of course) before straining it.

Brown Butter Pumpkin Bread 

Ingredients:

• 240g (1 cup) warm water 

• 7g (2 ¼ teaspoons) active dry yeast (1 packet)

• 50g (¼ cup) honey

• 50g (3 ½ tablespoons) brown butter, infused with sage and cooled slightly (see instructions below)

• 1 large egg + 2 large egg yolks (approximately 100g)

• 5g (1 teaspoon) salt

• 200g (1 cup) canned pumpkin puree

• 525g (5 cups) all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting

• 1 egg, beaten, for egg wash (approximately 50g)

• Pumpkin seeds,, for topping (optional)

Instructions:

1. Brown the butter and infuse with sage:

   • Place 50g (3 ½ tablespoons) of unsalted butter in a light-colored saucepan over medium heat.

   • Add 5-10 fresh sage leaves to the butter.

   • Cook, swirling the pan frequently, until the butter melts, foams, and then turns a light brown color with a nutty aroma. This takes about 5-8 minutes. Sage leaves will also become fragrant and slightly crispy. Watch carefully as it can burn quickly!

   • Immediately remove from heat and strain the butter through a fine-mesh sieve into a heatproof bowl to remove the sage leaves. Let the brown butter cool slightly.

2. Combine wet ingredients: In a large bowl, combine the warm water, yeast, and honey. Leave for 5-10 minutes until the yeast is foamy.
   

3. Add remaining wet ingredients: Stir in the cooled sage-infused brown butter, egg and egg yolks, salt, and canned pumpkin puree.
   

4. Gradually add flour: Gradually add the flour, 1 cup at a time, mixing until a shaggy dough forms.
   

5. Knead the dough: Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8-10 minutes, until smooth and elastic. Add more flour as needed, 1 tablespoon at a time, if the dough is too sticky.
   

6. First rise: Place the dough in a lightly greased bowl, turning to coat. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let rise in a warm place for 1-1.5 hours, or until doubled in size.

7. Shape the loaf:

   • Punch down the dough.

   • On a lightly floured surface, shape the dough into an oval.

   • Place the loaf in a greased 9x5 inch loaf pan.

8. Second rise: Cover the loaf pan loosely with plastic wrap and let rise for 30-45 minutes, or until the dough has almost doubled and crests the top of the pan.
   

9. Preheat oven and bake: Preheat oven to 175 degrees C (350 degrees F). Brush the loaf with the beaten egg and sprinkle with sesame seeds or poppy seeds, if desired.
   

10. Bake: Bake for 25-30 minutes, or until golden brown and sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom. If the top browns too quickly, tent it with foil during the last 15 minutes of baking.

11. Cool: Let the bread cool completely in the pan on a wire rack before slicing and serving.

This bread freezes well - if you can resist eating it all in one sitting. It makes excellent French toast the next day, though in my house it rarely survives that long. Serve it warm with a drizzle of honey, some cream cheese or butter. Share this recipe with someone you love.

⌇⋰ Instagram 

⌇⋰ Website

⌇⋰ Email : harrysbaked@gmail.com or respond to this email, I love to hear from you.

---