The Essential Book of Jewish Festival Cooking: 200 Seasonal Holiday Recipes & Their Traditions

Introduction

Long before timepieces and the Internet, our ancestors looked for agricultural signs to mark the passing of the seasons and the time for holiday rejoicing. Then as today, in the land of Israel, green garlic meant that Passover was near; the new barley and wheat harvests signaled the time for the Omer and then Shavuot; the vineyards with their ripened grapes was the setting for Tu b’Av; the firm little yellow Barhi date was a tangible sign of the approaching Days of Awe, and olive oil was plentiful at Hanukkah. With the exception of Hanukkah and Purim, which arose in later eras, the festivals—in biblical days—responded to the rhythms, seasons, and foodstuffs of the land.

But since ancient times Jews have lived mostly in exile. Uprooted from the earth of our ancestors in 70 C.E. after the Romans destroyed the Second Temple, our people could no longer see the blossoming of the almond tree in winter, summer’s profusion of white squill flowers, or the ripening of the wheat in spring. They could no longer bring their bikkurim, their first fruits, to offer to God in Jerusalem from late spring to early fall, from Shavuot to Sukkot, or sacrifice the Paschal Lamb at the Temple for Passover. The festival celebrations were forever changed.

But they scarcely disappeared. In the second century, the customs and laws of the holidays were collected in the Mishnah, and three centuries later, the detailed discussions about the Mishnah were in turn collected in the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds (which we refer to as BT and JT in our book). Judaism survived—and flourished—in exile. With passion for protecting the legacy of the Jewish people, the rabbis of the Talmud evolved new meanings for each of the festivals to take the place of the Temple sacrifices, the tithing of the crops, and the agricultural symbolism that were part and parcel of our ancestors’ daily lives. They drew their sources from the Bible, from the teachings of their own forebears, the earliest rabbis in Palestine, and from the nations around them. The Judaism they developed has succeeded in surviving to this day—through crusades, pogroms, and the Holocaust.

In an era like ours, which is actively reclaiming a true appreciation of nature and natural foods, understanding how the festivals began can awaken a fascination with the very same foods that nourished and inspired our ancestors, each in its own season—and each with its own special significance. At the same time, Jews have a rich culinary heritage from our centuries in the vast Diaspora, from Morocco to Poland, from the Black Sea land of Georgia to Persia. As you turn the pages of The Essential Book of Jewish Festival Cooking, you’ll therefore discover recipes for the seasonal foods of the land that gave birth to the festivals to begin with, along with those developed by Jewish communities around the world.

You’ll also find, possibly to your surprise, that unlike every other Jewish holiday cookbook, ours begins with the full-moon festival of Passover in the month of Nisan (March/April). That’s because Nisan, in the spring, was the first month in the Bible, the original beginning of the Hebrew calendar year. Autumn’s Rosh Hashanah emerged as the new year only during the Babylonian exile.

Join us as we wind our way through the seasons of the land of Israel, and the lands of the Diaspora, in what has been for us a spiritual, soulful, and, most of all, an exciting culinary journey into our roots.

—Phyllis Glazer, Tel Aviv, Israel

   Miriyam Glazer, Santa Monica, California

The Festivals of Spring

For now, the winter is past,

The rains are over and gone,

The blossoms have appeared in the land …

The time of pruning has come …

The green figs form on the fig tree,

The blossoming vines give off fragrance.

—Song of Songs 2: 11–13a

Passover

Z’man Heiruteynu: The Season of Our Liberation

From the mountains of Nepal, where they may be trekking, to the 2,000-year-old Jewish community on the Tunisian isle of Djerba; from Buenos Aires to Southern California, a kind of homing instinct makes Jews all over the world seek out other Jews on the night of the fourteenth of the Hebrew month of Nisan (late March or April).

For that’s the night of the Passover Seder, the first festival of the first month of the Jewish lunar year.

Maybe the homing instinct is a modern expression of the Passover pilgrimage of two millennia ago, when thousands of Jews from all over Israel flocked to the Temple in Jerusalem to celebrate the festival. In recent years, our own widespread family has joined together to hold the Seder at the shores of the Red Sea; in Tel Aviv, where our guests hailed from Colombia, Congo, Russia, and all over America; at our old family home on Rockaway Beach in New York; and even in Barcelona.

The way the Seder is conducted varies almost as much as its settings. Some of our friends chant the Haggadah, the ancient story of the liberation of the Israelites from slavery in Egypt, in the original Aramaic; others, along-side guests from across the racial and ethnic spectrum, relate it to contemporary issues of individual freedom or social justice. A family we know hangs sheets from the ceiling in their living room to make a tent, and the Seder participants lounge on pillows on the floor within it. Our own Ashkenazic family has adopted traditional Sephardic customs: The children dress as wayfaring Israelites at the outset of the Seder, and as we recite the Haggadah’s description of slavery, we mimic the taskmasters of Egypt, gleefully beating each other with fresh green onions.

However and wherever the Seder is held, though, its symbolic foods, displayed on the Seder plate, include those laid down in the Talmud two thousand years ago: bitter herbs—originally wild romaine lettuce—to recall the harsh conditions the Israelites endured; haroset, to remind us of the mortar they had to form; and above all matzah, called lechem oni, the unleavened bread of poverty, but also the bread of freedom, for on the night the Israelites left Egypt, their sourdough starter, the yeast of biblical times, had had no time to rise.

Still, how startlingly different our celebrations are today from the first Passover described in the Bible or, generations later, held at the Temple. Ours comes from the Talmud, which evolved the rituals of the Seder based on the customs of Greek and Roman symposia in the centuries after the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 C.E.

But the Passover held on the night before the Hebrew slaves left Egypt, and, generations later, at the Temple in Jerusalem, was a true carnivore’s delight. Each clan was to slaughter a lamb, roast it, and then eat it entirely that night, along with bitter herbs and unleavened bread. On the verge of their liberation, the Hebrews in Egypt also took a bunch of hyssop, dipped it into the animal’s blood, and marked the doorposts and the lintels of their homes.

Unlike traditional meals, which our ancestors ate sitting cross-legged and barefoot on a straw mat, the Passover lamb had to be devoured as quickly as possible—in fact, says the Bible, with hips girded … sandals on your feet, and a walking stick in your hand (Exod. 12: 11), as if ready at a moment’s notice to march to freedom.

After the Temple was destroyed, the rabbis living in exile in Babylonia did away with the biblical tradition of rushing. Instead, intent on honoring the biblical commandment to keep this service (Exod. 12: 25), they created the Seder, transforming the Roman custom of ongoing discussion, reclining at the table as a sign of one’s social status, eating and dipping hors d’oeuvres (bitter lettuce dipped in salt water), and drinking wine into a religious occasion. Eager to keep the children awake, they encouraged their questions and ritualized the recitation of the wonders and miracles accompanying the exodus from Egypt. Thanks to them, the once-famous centerpiece of the Pass-over celebration, the Paschal Lamb, was reduced to a shadow of its former self, becoming the little roasted shank bone on our Seder plate.

Even the original Passover, with its emphasis on eating the sacrificial lamb and unleavened bread, may have originated in two seasonal rites predating the Bible. Since the month of Nisan, the lunar new year heralding the arrival of spring, is also a time of lambing, the Feast of Passover may have been a joyous time once celebrated by shepherds with rituals that included offering a firstborn lamb as a thanksgiving sacrifice. The Festival of Matzah, on the other hand, may have been the time that farmers rid their larders of the sourdough starter they had used for leaven in the previous year, relying on plain unleavened bread—matzah—until the new grain was winnowed, ground, and turned into new starter.

Whatever its origins, the fourteenth of Nisan has been a special night for all the Children of Israel, throughout the ages (Exod. 12: 42), and the most often-repeated line in the Bible, Remember you were slaves unto Pharoah in Egypt (Exod. 13: 3), became the basis of the Jewish pursuit of justice, generosity toward the poor, and concern for minorities. The journey from slavery to political freedom is the very pulse of the Jewish story.

There’s always a flurry of activity preparing for Passover: ridding our homes of hametz (leaven), bringing out the special dishes and pots, preparing the Seder meal. In fact, for our great-grandparents and those before them, Passover took months of preparation.

In Eastern Europe, the fat of the goose served on the previous Hanukkah was rendered and put aside for Passover.

Purim, falling a month before Passover, was the time to begin making russel, a beet-based substitute for vinegar. A Yiddish word derived from the fifteenth-century Polish term for the salt solution used to preserve food, russel was also used to make russel borscht, beet soup. Even matzah was made just after Purim, with individual households or whole communities purchasing wheat flour and baking the matzot together in hovels-cum-bakeries especially set up for this purpose. The more well-to-do customers enjoyed thin, round matzah, and the men of the household crushed some to make matzah meal and farfel, larger crumbs.

It was even customary to make your own yellow-brown Passover wine from raisins, possibly deriving from a rabbinic prohibition against using red wine during the eras when the blood-libel accusations against Jews were rife. Many people also made mead, an ancient drink based on hops, sugar, and honey, fermented by dipping a coarse string in an egg white and inserting it into a pot.

In recent years, it’s become increasingly hard to remember the flavors, sights, scents, and smells that were once integral parts of the entire week of Passover. One doubts that our ancestors would have approved of the New Age Passover Pasta, Passover self-rising flour, Passover wafers, cake mixes, breakfast cereals, and other Passover clones, all made of matzah. They’re so perfected, you almost can’t tell the difference. And that’s the problem. Today, even Fido can eat kosher for Passover.

As the older generation moves on, the art of making classic dishes such as gefilte fish or Iraqi chicken-stuffed fritters is being lost irretrievably, as is the time-honored process of intergenerational teaching in the kitchen. And growing up with Passovers that rely on virtual products such as pasta and Cheerios-type breakfast cereals will ultimately mean that the difference intended by Passover will scarcely be felt, unless we make the effort to make it so.

Whether you’re planning a Passover Seder menu or looking for delicious foods to serve throughout the Passover week, you’ll find a variety of recipes in this and other chapters. For ideas on how to combine them all, check the menu suggestions in Appendix I (page 301).

Passover Recipes

Appetizers

Roasted Vegetables in Olive Oil and Spring Herbs

Nanuchka’s Fabulous Walnut-and-Herb-Stuffed Eggplant Rolls

Parsley-and-Garlic-Stuffed Portobello Mushrooms

Mom’s Russian-Style Gefilte Fish

Leah Gueta’s Harime

Soups

Golden Thyme-Scented Vegetable Broth

The Perfect Knaidlach

Cream of Root Vegetable Soup

For the Seder Plate

Glazer Family Haroset

Yemenite Haroset

Main Dishes for Seder

Roasted Chicken with Two Potatoes, Garlic, and Rosemary

Roasted Salmon with Marinated Fennel and Thyme

Stuffed Shoulder of Veal

Side Dishes

Spring Vegetable Kugel

Braised Bitter Herbs with Pistachios

Baby Spinach Salad with Arugula, Basil, and Pine Nuts

Ideas for Passover Week

Tarragon-Scented Savory Goat Cheese Cheesecake

Moroccan Egg-Stuffed Potato Pastelim

Iraqi Chicken-Stuffed Patties

Fresh Mushroom and Vidalia Onion Frittata

Glazer Family Matzah Brei

Fresh Beet Salad in Honey Dressing

Marinated Fennel in Olive Oil and Herbs

Passover Thumbprint Seeded Rolls

Desserts

Melon with Crystallized Ginger

Pecan Meringue Cookies

Lemony Nut Cake with Lemon Topping and Berries

Fudgy Passover Brownies

Moshe b’Tayva(Moses in the Basket)

Eingemacht

Cherna’s Favorite Lemon Curd

Roasted Vegetables in Olive Oil and Spring Herbs

Serves 6 to 8

We sometimes begin the Seder sitting comfortably in the living room, and serve these fragrant herb-infused roasted vegetables there after the Karpas ritual, when a vegetable is dipped in salt water. Colorful and delicious, the roasted vegetables take the edge off everyone’s appetite, so that the Maggid, the heart of the Seder, as well as all the subsequent rituals, can be recited—and discussed—in a more leisurely way. We move to the dining table only when we reach Shulchan Orekh, the festive meal.

Although some of the vegetables need to be steamed before roasting, it’s possible to prepare and marinate all the vegetables together even 24 hours beforehand. In just a few weeks, you can vary the recipe for a Lag b’Omer barbecue by cutting the vegetables into chunks for kabobs, and grilling them for 10 to 15 minutes on low-glowing coals, turning and basting occasionally.

Marinade

2 teaspoons mustard seeds (optional)

1 cup extra-virgin olive oil

⅓ cup white or red wine Passover vinegar

3 tablespoons minced garlic

¼ cup thinly sliced fresh basil leaves

1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme leaves, or 1 teaspoon dried

1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano, or 1 teaspoon dried

1½ teaspoons chopped fresh rosemary leaves, or ½ teaspoon dried

¼ to ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Vegetables

1¼ pounds (about 18) very small thin-skinned potatoes

3 large carrots, sliced into ½-inch pieces on the diagonal

1¾ pounds eggplant (about 1 medium), sliced widthwise into ½ -inch slices

1 pound zucchini (about 3 medium), sliced into ½-inch pieces on the diagonal

1¼ pounds (about 4 medium) assorted-color bell peppers (red, yellow, orange, green), seeded and cut into 1½ -inch squares

16 medium fresh mushrooms

Coarse sea salt or kosher salt to taste

1. Prepare the marinade first: Toast the mustard seeds, if using, in a dry skillet over low heat, stirring occasionally, until they pop. Set aside.

2. Put the olive oil, vinegar, garlic, basil, thyme, oregano, rosemary, and black pepper in a blender and whirl until well blended. (Or whisk together the vinegar, garlic, herbs, and pepper and add the olive oil in a slow, steady stream, whisking constantly.) Stir in the toasted mustard seeds.

3. Prepare the vegetables: Heat 1 inch lightly salted water in a large saucepan to boiling, add the potatoes, cover, and lower heat (you may use a steamer basket). Simmer about 20 minutes, or until just tender. Do not overcook. Remove with a slotted spoon and place in a large bowl. Check the water level, adding more water if necessary. Add the carrot slices and cook for 3 minutes, then add the eggplant and continue to cook an additional 3 to 4 minutes, until carrots are crisp-tender and eggplant is just slightly tender. Drain and add to the bowl along with the zucchini, sliced bell peppers, and mushrooms.

4. Stir the prepared marinade and pour over the vegetables in the bowl. Mix gently, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 3 hours or overnight, stirring occasionally.

5. Heat the oven to high. Drain the vegetables, but reserve the marinade. Line a large baking pan with parchment paper, and lay the vegetables out as evenly as possible. Brush with the marinade and place on the middle rack of the oven. Roast the vegetables for 15 to 20 minutes, or until golden brown, turning occasionally and basting with the reserved marinade. Transfer to a serving platter, pour over the marinade left in the pan, and serve hot or warm. Sprinkle with salt just before serving.

Nanuchka’s Fabulous Walnut-and-Herb-Stuffed Eggplant Rolls

Makes about 20 to 30 pieces

This traditional Passover dish comes from Georgia (not the Deep South, but rather the Caucasus country on the Black Sea), and was given to us by Nana Shrier and her head cook, Marina Tofuria, at Nanuchka, the only Georgian restaurant in Tel Aviv.

Our dear friend Natasha Krantz, also Georgian, re-created the stuffing for us and turned it into a scrumptious base for salads, a great filling for fresh vegetables, or a spread for matzah. You might want to experiment with different nuts such as macadamias and hazelnuts or different herbs such as basil, sage, and cilantro throughout Passover week.

Use either elongated or round, fat eggplant for this recipe. The longer eggplant results in smaller, more delicate rolls with less filling, suitable for a first course, while the fatter eggplant is better for larger rolls, suitable as a main course.

While at Nanuchka they salt the eggplant first and let it drain for fifteen minutes, Natasha goes right ahead and fries it, the latter method recommended only for the freshest eggplant. If you prefer to avoid frying, just brush the thinly cut slices with olive oil and bake on both sides on a parchment-lined baking sheet in the oven until tender and golden brown. For even browning, turn occasionally and shift positions of the slices on the sheet if necessary. Serve 2 pieces per person as a first course, 3 or more as a main course.

3¾ pounds eggplant (2 to 3 medium)

Coarse sea salt or kosher salt

Freshly ground black pepper

About 1 cup vegetable oil

1½ cups walnut halves (about 1 pound)

2 medium garlic cloves, pressed (1 tablespoon)

½ teaspoon white or red wine vinegar

⅓ cup chopped onion

Scant ¼ teaspoon ground

coriander 1 teaspoon salt, or more to taste

1 small dried hot pepper or cayenne to taste

½ cup packed chopped cilantro

⅓ cup packed chopped fresh Italian parsley

1. Cut the stem end off the eggplant and slice the eggplant lengthwise into ⅜-inch slices. Sprinkle both sides with a little coarse salt and pepper and rub in. Let stand for 10 minutes, rinse off, and pat dry.

2. Heat half the oil in a skillet and sauté half the eggplant slices on both sides until golden brown. Remove and place between two sheets of paper towel to absorb excess oil. Repeat with the rest of the oil and eggplant.

3. In a food processor, grind the walnuts to a powder. Add the remaining ingredients, blending until the paste forms a ball. Lay the eggplant slices on a work surface and place 2 or more tablespoons of filling (depending on type of eggplant) at the base. Carefully roll from the bottom into a compact roll. Serve on a serving platter decorated with fresh greens, if desired.

Variations

Cabbage Walnut Salad: Cook ½ medium cabbage in boiling water until very tender, and squeeze out excess moisture by hand. Chop coarsely by hand together with a few tablespoons of the walnut mixture. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Roasted Eggplant Walnut Salad: Roast 1 to 2 small eggplants (see Roasted Eggplant and Pomegranate Seed Salad, page 142, for instructions on how to roast eggplant). Chop by hand, blending in a few tablespoons of the walnut mixture.

Use the filling to stuff fresh mushrooms, celery ribs, and cherry tomatoes.

Parsley-and-Garlic-Stuffed Portobello Mushrooms

Serves 6 to 12

Garlic, or shum in Hebrew, was used extensively in biblical times, and freshly picked purple-tinted garlic was always a sign that heralded the coming of spring and Passover. Not only did it help sustain our foreparents in the Holy Land, it may have been an integral part of their Egyptian diet as well: The Greek historian Herodotus describes an inscription on the Great Pyramid recording the sums of money spent during construction on onions, garlic, and radishes for the workers.

Inspired by this flavor of spring, these fragrant and satisfying stuffed mushrooms make a lovely starter (serve 1 per person), or the basis for a light Passover lunch (serve 2 per person) with a salad of baby greens.

Note: If no portobellos are available, use large button mushrooms. Serve 2 to 3 as a starter, and 4 to 5 for a light lunch.

12 large portobello mushrooms (four 16-ounce packages)

Steffing

½ tablespoon minced garlic (about 1 large clove)

1 cup matzah meal

¼ cup finely chopped Italian parsley

1 cup chopped onion (about 2 medium onions)

¼ cup dry white wine

Salt to taste

Freshly ground black pepper to taste

6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil plus oil or nonstick cooking spray for the pan

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a large baking pan with parchment paper, and lightly grease the paper with additional oil or nonstick cooking spray.

2. Clean the portobello mushrooms with a damp paper towel and set aside.

3. In a medium bowl, combine all the stuffing ingredients, finally adding 3 tablespoons of olive oil.

4. With a spoon, fill the mushrooms with equal amounts of stuffing, and flatten down with the back of the spoon. Place the mushrooms in the prepared baking pan. Pour the remaining olive oil evenly over mushrooms. Bake for 20 minutes, or until golden brown. Serve warm.

Variations

Add 3 to 4 tablespoons lightly toasted pine nuts or shelled pistachios to the stuffing. To toast pine nuts, place in a dry skillet over medium-low heat, stirring often, until they are light tan in color. Pistachio nuts are best if you toast them in a 375°F oven for 8 to 10 minutes, shaking the pan occasionally.

Add 2 tablespoons chopped fresh oregano, basil, or sage, or 1 tablespoon thyme or marjoram, to the stuffing, or 2 tablespoons of a combination of fresh herbs. Add both herbs and nuts, if desired.

The Haggadah: A Telling Story

The story of Passover was not always passed down from generation to generation with a paperback Haggadah (a word that means the telling). In fact, for thousands of years the story of Passover was transmitted only by word of mouth.

Our modern Haggadah originated in Mishnah tractate Pesachim, but it was only in thirteenth-century Spain that the earliest handwritten Haggadot were produced. Just three hundred years later there were 25 printed versions; by the seventeenth century, there were 37; by the eighteenth, 230; the nineteenth, about 1,500 … and by the twentieth, over 3,000!

Today the Haggadah is a collection of narrative sources interspersed with ritual, legend, prayers, blessings, and songs of thanksgiving developed over the ages. There are ecological, vegetarian, feminist, socialist, kibbutz, Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist, Hasidic (Bratislaver, Lubavitch), Modern Orthodox, gay-and-lesbian, and multicultural versions, all with their own interpretations of the Season of Our Liberation.

In 1937, even the General Foods Corporation produced its version of one of the most popular Jewish books of all time (… Maxwell House Coffee, whose relations with the Jewish people have always been the most friendly, takes pleasure in presenting this new, up-to-date edition of the Haggadah!, undoubtedly attempting to make the fourth glass of wine good to the last drop). Of course, the bare-bones mass-marketing format of the once nearly ubiquitous Maxwell House Coffee Haggadah had little in common with the elaborately illustrated Haggadot that had been produced ever since the Middle Ages, except for one very important thing: Its written content was nearly exactly the same as that of the Haggadot whose development began nearly two thousand years before!

Mom’s Russian-Style Gefilte Fish

Makes approximately 20 pieces

One of the great classics of the European Jewish menu, gefilte fish is a centuries-old dish dating back to medieval times, served on both Sabbath and the holidays. The tradition probably arose from Jewish mystical teachings linked to an old legend that the Messiah will appear to the Jewish people in the form of the Leviathan, a giant fish from the sea, from which only the righteous may eat.

Practically speaking, however, the original gefilte fish was born out of poverty Since fresh fish was always very expensive, ground fish was stretched with fillers such as matzah meal, eggs, and onions, to serve more people with less fish.

Our mother, who was born in Philadelphia, remembers that her mother and many other Eastern European Jews bought the fish live and let it have its cleansing swim in the bathtub for several days before whacking it over the head and cleaning, gutting, and scaling it. You can (and should) ask the fishmonger to fillet the fish, remove all scales, and place the skin, bones, fins, tail, and head (with eyes removed) in a separate bag. Although many people ask the fishmonger to grind the fish fillets for them, our mother insists that for best flavor you should grind them at home using the fine disk of an electric grinder.

During all the years she lived in America, Mom used to make her renowned gefilte fish with carp, whitefish, and pike, but in Israel, where the types of fresh fish differ according to the seasons, she learned to make it as most Israelis do—with carp only.

Although making good gefilte fish may seem like an awesome task, it can be relatively painless if you follow the instructions on pages 15 and 16. The best pot to use is one with a wide bottom, so that the fish will not be too tightly packed. Mom used the same trusty enormous yellow enamel pot in our home in Rockaway Beach, New York, for decades. That pot now resides in my kitchen in Tel Aviv.

Broth

Skin, bones, fins, tail, and head of the fish, eyes removed

6 large carrots, scraped clean

1 pound onion (about 2 large), thickly sliced

3 ribs celery with leaves, thickly sliced

2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon white pepper

Fish Balls

1 large carp (about 5½ pounds filleted fish) or 1½ pounds whitefish, 2 pounds pike, and the rest carp fillets

1 extra-large onion, cut into chunks

½ cup matzah meal*

3 large eggs, lightly beaten with a fork

1 tablespoon salt

1 teaspoon white pepper, or more to taste

*On other holidays, Mom replaces the matzah meal in the mixture with a thick slice of soaked and squeezed (home-baked) challah.

Make the Broth

1. The secret of our mother’s incredibly rich, clear fish broth, she always told us, begins with how you prepare the ingredients for the broth. This requires, first and foremost, scrupulous cleaning of the skin, bones, fins, tail, and head, to remove any imperfections. Wash them under cold running water, using a small, sharp knife to remove any scales remaining on the skin and blood spots remaining on the bones. Place washed items in the bottom of a large wide-bottomed pot.

2. Cut 3 of the carrots into coarse chunks, and layer on top of the fish parts in the pot with the sliced onions and thickly sliced celery stalks with leaves. Add water to cover the ingredients in the pot, plus 2 inches. Season with the salt and white pepper. Partially cover, bring to a boil, and lower heat to simmer for 60 minutes.

3. Using a slotted spoon, remove large bones and fish head, leaving the vegetables and rest of the bones at the bottom as a bed for the fish balls. Taste and adjust seasoning, and simmer while preparing the fish balls.

Make the Fish Balls

4. Quickly rinse fish fillets under cold running water, pat dry, and cut into chunks. Grind the fish and onion chunks together with a food grinder, or the food grinder attachment on a standing mixer. A food processor is not a good option, because it turns the fish into a paste. If no grinder is available, ask the fishmonger to grind the fish. If you have a friendly fishmonger, bring the onion to the store and ask him to grind it with the fish.

5. Transfer the ground mixture to a wooden chopping bowl and chop in the matzah meal until it disappears into the mixture. Chop in one beaten egg at a time, then chop a little more until smooth. Add ¼ cup cold water and continue chopping lightly about 2 minutes, until smooth and fluffy. Let stand 10 minutes.

6. Make a ball of the mixture to see if it holds together well, and chop 2 to 4 tablespoons additional matzah meal into the bowl only if the mixture is too wet. Season with the salt and white pepper.

7. Place a bowl of cold water within reach of the simmering broth. Moisten your hands. In the palm of your hand, form an oval-shaped fat little ball of the mixture about 3 inches long. Slide the balls as you make them gently into the simmering broth in even layers, and repeat until all fish is used.

8. Slice remaining 3 carrots into ¼-inch rounds or on the diagonal into ovals (for garnish) and add to the pot. All fish should be submerged in the broth. If not, add just enough water to immerse the fish. Partially cover pot, gently bring to a boil, and simmer for 1½ hours. (Do not add any more water to the pot, even if the fish is no longer submerged.) Taste the broth and add salt and pepper if necessary.

9. Partially cover again and cook for an additional 15 minutes. Remove from heat, and