Kugel and Pork

Conventional wisdom dictates that headlines should not be obscure or cute.  If “Kugel and Pork” leaves you wondering what this piece is about, I apologize.  I just couldn’t resist. 

I have an affinity to such pairings.  Once I commissioned a photographer to do a shoot using challah and a jar of Hellman’s — a wedding gift for a Jew and a WASP.  For them, we positioned candles flanking the pair — romantic and ironic, fit for newlyweds.  For my own kitchen, we did a slightly edgier take which I framed cheaply (and unevenly, I now see) and cherished for the next 35 years.  

Challah and Mayo with Knife hung crookedly on the assorted kitchen walls that spanned my midlife.  It made me smile; it made others smile. I took its photo before giving it away a few months ago when I sold its final resting place, my house in Massachusetts.

Turns out, I am not alone in my love of cultural co-mingling.  While writing this post, I happened to mention it to my friend Barbara Biziou, who was once interviewed on Grits and Matzoballs, a podcast featuring two girlfriends dishing about life and spirituality,   

So how did my kugel-and-pork pairing come to be the subject of this post? 

It was more a practical decision than a foodie’s epiphany.  I had come back from my daughter’s home with a 6-person portion of the manna of all Jewish holidays (except Passover), luchen kugel, or as most of us know it, noodle pudding.   Jen’s is delicious — no pineapple, no frills, just perfectly cooked medium egg noodles lathered in sour cream, cottage cheese, and other artery-clogging ingredients, with a touch of sweetness and a good old-fashioned crumbled-Corn-Flakes crust.  

I ate the first two thirds of my stash that day. First, I just nibbled at it — I was only trying to even it out to a perfect square before putting it in the fridge.  Later, I put a generous serving next to the few slices of brisket I managed to also commandeer.  (Don’t judge.  It’s in the DNA.   Indeed, later that evening my friend from Beirut asked, “So —  did you bring food home? All the Jews do.”)

Cut to Day 2.  I awake and, as I do almost every morning, whether or not another person is there to join the conversation, I ask myself,  So…what’s for dinner tonight?

The leftover kugel springs to mind.  In quick succession, I also remember that I have a thick boneless pork chop in the freezer that I’ve been meaning to cook.  It’s early; I have plenty of time to thaw the chop. I’ll have it with a side of kugel.

Admittedly, I have a moment, when I ask myself, “Really?  Kugel and pork chops?”

But Self retorts,  “Why not?

First of all, kugel tastes good with almost everything.  (Perhaps not a good side dish for meatballs and spaghetti.) 

Second, we flock to “fusion” restaurants, buy culture-blending cookbooks.  Why not make a meal out of foods that retain their individual heritage yet work together? (Not a bad recipe for the country, either.)

Third, customs sometimes outlive their usefulness — and meaning.  If Catholics can forgo fish on Friday, why can’t Jews also eat pork,  especially those of us who have been “cheating” since childhood.  (When my family ate at the Chinese restaurant on Sunday nights, spare ribs weren’t really considered “pork.”)    

And if you’re willing to go that far — as apparently many modern Jews now are — why not serve your pork with a heaping side of kugel?  

Top to bottom: Jen’s kugel (an Epicurious recipe), breaded boneless pork chop, and slaw. 

The bottom line: Pairing kugel with pork is delicious but doesn’t make for a particularly pretty plate.  Why is it that so many Jewish and Southern dishes are brown and white?   

Looks aside, the tastes blended beautifully — savory and sweet, crunchy and soft.  Having nothing green on hand, I used sauerkraut to “stretch” the few tablespoons of leftover deli coleslaw that I would have otherwise had to — God forbid — throw away.*  Turns out, each made the other taste better. 

Maybe I should try matzoh balls with a side of grits next.  

* To read more about my reluctance to “waste food,” see The Endless Bounty of Garbage  Soup