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A few weeks ago, I was chatting with my writer-friend Jason Diamond (you’ll meet him in the next “The Four Questions” interview), and he started talking about ingredients that just “feel quintessentially Jewish.” Of course, most ingredients - whether a vegetable, spice, or particular kind of fish - are beloved across many cultures, and don’t exclusively belong to any of them. And when you are talking about a cuisine as globally diverse as Jewish cuisine, the most resonant ingredients are going to be vastly different, depending on where you come from.
But maybe you know the feeling of walking through a farmer’s market, spotting a feathery bouquet of dill (that’s the one that does it for Jason), and being emotionally teleported to slurping a bowl of chicken soup at your grandmother’s Passover table. Perhaps every time you crack into a pomegranate - even just to sprinkle the ruby arils over a weeknight salad - you think of Rosh Hashanah. Or maybe you’ve bitten into a flaky coffee shop pastry filled with sweetened ground poppy seeds and thought: “Just like hamantaschen!”
In Yiddish, this experience is called Yidishn tam (literally “Jewish taste”). The phrase describes food, but also music or poetry or literature, that evokes an immediately identifiable - though largely ineffable - sense of “Jewish-ness.” You just know it when you see (or taste) it.
For me, buckwheat - aka kasha - is an unmistakably Jewish ingredient. Buckwheat is a “cereal grain” (botanically speaking, it is not a grain at all, but actually a plant related sorrel and rhubarb) that is used extensively across Europe. Up until the 1800s it was also widely cultivated in the northeastern United States. (That changed in the mid-20th century when American agriculture began to rely on nitrogen fertilizers that buckwheat did not respond to as well to as corn and wheat.)
In other words, buckwheat is beloved by a whole lot of different people in a whole lot of different places. But because my Ashkenazi heritage hails from buckwheat-obsessed countries (Russia and Lithuania), my visceral association with the nutty, grain-like groats will forever conjure up comforting thoughts my Jewish ancestors.
Eastern European Jews ate kasha every day, and incorporated it into every meal. For breakfast, there was toasted buckwheat, cooked until fluffy and served with milk. (Gabriella Gershenson relays the delights of eating buckwheat for breakfast in this lovely essay.) At lunch, there might be kasha knishes - golden pockets of dough wrapped around cooked buckwheat for an unparalleled starch-on-starch experience. And for dinner, there was the mother of all Ashkenazi buckwheat dishes: kasha varnishkes - which paired the softened, cone-shaped groats with heaps of caramelized onions and chewy egg noodles. I could eat kasha varnishkes every day and never tire of it.
But onto this Maple Buckwheat Granola. I got the idea for the recipe a few weeks back while perusing the menu at Edith’s Brooklyn. (If you missed “The Four Questions” interview with Edith’s founder Elyssa Heller, check it out here.) Edith’s granola is made with chickpeas, buckwheat, and dried cherries and served as part of a labneh parfait. Um, yes please.
Riffing off of that deliciousness, I started with half buckwheat groats and half rolled oats for a hearty and naturally gluten free base. I added a mix of nuts, pepitas, and chia seeds for flavor and nutritional heft, and ground cinnamon and ginger to perfume my home while the granola got toasty in the oven. I drizzled the whole thing with maple syrup and sunflower oil mixed with a little peanut butter until smooth. And then here’s the kicker: I added a whisked egg white.
It turns out the proteins in egg whites help get your granola super crispy and help to form those crunchy clusters that make granola so eminently addictive. It’s really a game changer. And for our purposes, I also love that it bolsters the dish’s “Jewish” vibe. In many recipes for kasha varnishkes, the buckwheat groats get coated in egg to help keep them fluffy and separate as they cook. The egg serves a different purpose in granola, but the egg + kasha through line makes me very happy.
So here you have it: a super crunchy, fragrant, toasty, and “Jewish” (to me, anyway) Maple Buckwheat Granola. Tag me at @leah.koenig on Instagram if you make it!
And let me know: what ingredient feels most “Jewish” to you? Or, if you identify with another culture/cuisine, what ingredient feels most homey and resonant to you?
Maple Buckwheat Granola
Serve this ultra-crunchy maple sweetened granola with milk or paired with yogurt, a swirl of jam, and fresh fruit. Or just snack on it whenever the mood strikes. (If you are like me it will strike often!)
Serves 6
1 1/2 cups (250 g) raw buckwheat groats (not pre-toasted kasha)
1 1/2 cups (170 g) rolled oats (not instant oats)
1 cup (115 g) walnuts, pecans, or cashews (or a mix), very roughly chopped
1/2 cup (75 g) raw pepitas (pumpkin seeds)
2 tablespoons chia seeds
3 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 cup (120 ml) maple syrup
1/4 cup (60 ml) sunflower oil or light olive oil
2 tablespoons peanut butter or almond butter
1 egg white
Optional mix-ins: 1/2 cup (70 g) black or golden raisins, dried blueberries, dried cranberries, or chopped apricots
Preheat the oven to 325F (163 C). Add the buckwheat, oats, nuts, chia seeds, brown sugar, cinnamon, ginger, and salt to a large bowl and stir to combine.
Whisk the maple syrup, oil, and nut butter together in a small bowl, then pour over the dry ingredients, stirring to coat.
Thoroughly whisk the egg white in a bowl (you can use the same bowl you whisked the oil and maple syrup in, just give it a quick wipe first) until frothy, then pour over the mixture and stir to thoroughly coat.
Spread the mixture evenly onto a large baking sheet and bake, gently stirring halfway through, until golden brown and fragrant, 25 to 30 minutes. Remove from the oven and stir in the dried fruit, if using, while the granola is warm.
Let the granola cool to room temperature on the baking sheet. Resist the urge to stir it further or snack on the granola while it’s still hot - it will crisp up, form clumps, and develop in sweetness and flavor while it cools. Once cooled, break apart larger pieces as desired.
Transfer the granola to a sealed container and store for up to 2 weeks at room temperature (or in the freezer for up to 2 months).