Tsimmes

Monday, we attended a seder.

Years ago, my mother made a wonderful pan of stewed dried fruit, nuts, and spices. Hank and I waited until other guests strolled into the dining room, then scarfed up the entire bowl. We're bad children.

Anyway, I never, ever get the name of that dish (haroset) right. I always mix it up, just as I do with the Jewish donuts Mother made one year (donuts: sufganiyot. I usually call them Afikomen, which is the matzoh you hide during the seder. Completely different, obvy.).

So when we received an invitation, what did I volunteer to bring? Tsimmes. Because I thought I was saying haroset. But by the time I realized that - as usual - I'd said the wrong thing, it seemed like the best choice just to make the tsimmes. And haroset.

We did. Both. And it was Megan to the rescue in both dishes.

For the haroset, Mother ground dried cherries and apricots with raw almonds and cran-pomegranate juice. It was pretty good, but then she said "You don't have any Garam Masala, do you?" Why yes. Yes, I do. Thanks, Megan!

Then I had to make the haroset. Crap. You see what I just did? I meant the tsimmes. Gah.

Tsimmes is just roasted root veggies. I chopped sweet potatoes, carrots, white potatoes (waxy) and a half of a sweet onion into a large roasting pan. Fresh thyme, olive oil, a handful of dried cranberries (tsimmes is traditionally slightly sweet), a generous sprinkle of kosher salt, and a handful of pine nuts and voila!

Except...it would be so much better with a little kick. What if...I got down the Turkish spices Megan sent me after her trip to Istanbul? What if I ground white pepper, coriander seeds, and a little Kofte Bahari?

Megan sent a little spice grinder. Did I say that? All inclusive gifts, these. So I ground everything, then added olive oil because the book on Indian cooking she sent (!) talked about making spice-infused oil.

Tossed together, roasted at 430 for 45 minutes, it was truly delicious. We sailed confidently into the vegetarian seder with our offerings, and everyone enjoyed them.

The end.