Having recently been nomadic, and now delighted with my own place and my own kitchen, I find that I’m reading the foodie bits of the Bible with more glee. And with more greed, to be honest. All that milk and honey, fruit and wine feels like the warmth of home as the chill of November settles in.
So I’ve decided to put together a bit of an eaters’ guide to the Bible. From Old Testament roast lamb and fresh bread to Jesus’ own fish barbeque on the beach and the promise of banquets to come, there’s a lot of foodie talk happening between those mighty pages. I decided to look more closely at a few meal suggestions and to think of ways to serve them to my little family. With full reports and pictures. And it starts with apples.
We are not necessarily talking about the fruit of the tree in Eden, because, as you know, that fruit is never actually defined in the Bible as an apple. Which is a good thing, because apples are about as wholesome as you can get, and I imagine they might lose some of their allure if they were definitively linked with original sin. Or maybe not. We are contrary creatures. Still, there are a lot of apple references to consider in the Old Testament. Moses describes the people of Israel, charmingly, as the apple of God’s eye (Deuteronomy 32: 10). Then we have the proverbial instruction to keep God’s commandments and law as the apple of our eyes (Proverbs 7:2). And the singer in the Song of Songs memorably pleads : “comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love” (Song of Songs 2:5).
And comfort indeed. Apples are made for comfortable autumn—sweet, but tart, crunchy and perfectly portable in a cardigan pocket. And when slipped instead into the oven, they melt wonderfully with butter and spices, to warm and comfort any affliction at all. I love apple season. When I was an undergraduate student, I considered it decent economy to purchase a half bushel bag and keep it in the dark of my cupboard to sustain my studies through the long nights of winter.
This week, the shop down the road is selling huge apples for a pittance. Apparently, they are outside the standard size requirements and that makes them difficult to sell. So abundance for pennies and apples galore for my house. I started with apple sauce. The first batch, I seasoned with brown sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg. For breakfast, we added large dollops to our morning muesli and yogurt , and we snacked on it later in the morning, served up in teacups and sprinkled with raisins. The family’s vote: three enthusiastic, one abstaining. Beangirl avoids baked fruit.
Next on the menu: pottage. I usually have lentils of at least one hue in my cupboard. They are cheap, add a bit of colour and some protein too. Unlike meat in the freezer, they don’t need much thought ahead of time. The green ones you do need to cook for longer, but the red ones soften and dissolve pretty neatly. And, of course, it was red lentils that enticed Esau. One of my favourite foodies lines of scripture: “Let me eat some of that red stuff for I am famished!” (Genesis 25: 29-34) Immortal words. So, I listened and reached for the red lentils.
I also took an onion, sliced it thinly and let it sweat with olive oil. Then I added some diced carrots and mushrooms for sweetness, a little lemon and some thyme for that Mediterranean flavour, cumin, fennel seed, coriander and pepper, and a couple of large handfuls of red lentils. I topped it up with water and let it all bubble away until everything melted together beautifully. A couple of pita heated up in the toaster and ripped into pieces to dip into our bowls, and all was well with the world. This time, Beangirl dug right in with her spoon. Blue was a bit less enthusiastic, but I’m okay with the fact that my second born isn’t crazy about pottage. It may mean more peace among the siblings, and that’s fine by me.
The week ended with a more adventurous meal altogether. Veal stew. I found the recipe in the Sephardi section of The Book of Jewish Food by Claudia Roden. Cooked slowly with turmeric, onions, and served with lemon juice. Now, I know. Veal. But it is biblical. Think Abraham and the angels (Genesis 18: 1-8). Think the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-24). And recently, there have been some fairly persuasive arguments in the newspaper for eating veal. I should qualify that: there have been arguments in for humanely-reared veal. (Loosely, the argument goes like this: veal, the meat of male calves, is the by-product of the dairy industry. If it isn’t used as food, the animals are shot at birth and wasted, or sent off to Europe where standards are dodgier, and the calves likely will be mistreated. So, if you like dairy and you don’t like wasting food, you should eat veal.) Thinking about biblical food, it felt cheap to avoid the fatted calf. Though avoiding it would be cheaper, as I discovered at the grocery store. After announcing to the family that we would be having veal stew for supper. Hmm. This Biblical eating thing might require some sacrifice.
But, then I spotted the answer—veal meatballs. I found them dirt cheap in the discount (read: must be eaten today) section. Perfect. I made half the stew with budget meatballs, and fed it to the kids as an early supper. Votes: awesome and devoured. I cooked the other half of the stew slowly with more costly diced veal and served it as a late supper a deux for Spouse and me. Unfortunately, because it was a late supper, smelled divine, and looked fantastic, we ate it all up before I remembered to take any photos. The later version was deeper in colour, and more all-over unctuous (and less meatbally and distinct), with a thick broth requiring more flat breads to sop it all up. But, unlike the meatball version, it went unrecorded.
And it was good.
Next week, loaves and fishes and more…
