NOVEMBER 30 • 2023 | 11
J
N

humor

All Jewish Food Is Not Created Equal
I 

can remember walking into my parent’s 
kitchen when I was a kid, and my father 
was sitting at the table with a euphoric 
expression on his face. Just as I sat down at 
the table, my mother put a plate in front of 
him. He swooned. Happiness covered his 
face. He said he was in “seventh heaven.
” 
“What is that?” I asked. 
“Petcha,
” my mother proud-
ly said. “I make this for your 
dad all the time. He loves it.
”
“What is it?” I asked. 
“It’s made from the hoof 
of a calf. Sort of like a gelatin 
with garlic and onions. Bubbie 
taught me how to make it,
” 
Mom said. 
The kitchen started to smell weird. My dad 
was eating the stuff with gusto. I started to 
gag and ran out of the kitchen. I wonder if 
a Jewish veterinary podiatrist was involved 
somewhere in this recipe. 
Petcha, kishka, tongue, broiled matzah 
balls, cholent.
The book Jewish Cooking in America 
describes petcha:
“Until the latter part of the 19th century, 
Americans made natural gelatin, a glutinous 
material obtained from animal tissues and 
then boiled for a long time. This was the way 
Jews made petcha, or calves’-foot jelly. The 
calves’ feet were cleaned by singeing off the 
hair. Then they would be made kosher and 
stewed with onions and salt and pepper. The 
meat that was left was freed from the bone. 
Hard-boiled eggs were added and the whole 
was allowed to congeal. This formed a sort of 
firm aspic, which was served cold. Today few 
people make petcha and most buy manufac-
tured gelatin.
” 
Oy.
But then there’s kishke. My Bubbie’s was 
delicious until I found out it was made from 
the intestines of the cow. Kishke (meaning 
“gut” in Yiddish) is also known as stuffed 
derma or “helzel,
” which is stuffed chicken 
skin. Kishke is a stuffing made from vegeta-
bles, schmaltz and some kind of starch, such 
as matzah meal, crackers or bread all stuffed 
inside a cow intestine. Today, the casing is 
no longer made from cow intestine (thank 

heavens), and you can buy the whole kishke 
ready-made at your local kosher market or 
butcher. It’s on the menu in very few restau-
rants and there are many versions of this.
Here comes a real beauty. Tongue. I 
bought a fresh tongue once and started to 
boil it in a big pot. When the boiling started, 
the tongue rose to the top and hung there 
with foam and froth all around it. It was one 
of the grossest things I have ever made. I 
threw it in the garbage. 
My family used to eat tongue sandwich-
es. Rye bread, mustard and a thick layer of 
tongue. I couldn’t believe it was a real cow’s 
tongue, but you could see the lines and 
curves — just like a real tongue. I used to 
stick out my own tongue and think that no 
one would ever eat a real tongue. Even from 
a cow. Totally gross. 
The MGM Commissary in Hollywood 
was a private dining room for guys like Louis 
B. Mayer. He had to have his chicken soup 
every day. The chef knew Mr. Mayer liked 
his soup made with a fresh killed kosher 
chicken or it would be sent back. He also put 
the matzah balls under the broiler until they 
were “brown and very crisp” — just like Mr. 
Mayer liked them. 
In my family, whoever made the matzah 
balls made sure they were light and delicious. 
You put your sweat and tears into that bowl 
with eggs, matzah meal and schmaltz — and 
then you prayed. If I had been caught putting 
one of my Bubbie’s matzah balls under the 
broiler, I would have been banished to the 
dill pickle crocks in her cellar. 

And then there’s cholent. 
We had just returned from Israel and woke 
up in the hotel to the aroma of cholent. It 
was the most beautiful bouquet. So when we 
returned home, I decided to make it. It was 
my Bubbie’s recipe, and my mom made it all 
the time. But mine was different for some 
reason. Mine was like lead. It had great fla-
vor, but it was like someone poured lead into 
your stomach. I felt terrible for the people I 
invited for dinner. For some reason, no one 
called the next day to thank me for the meal. 
There was a Cholent Burnoff in Cleveland 
many years ago. “We couldn’t do ribs,
” writes 
Sara Brizdle Dickman, “so we make this 
Jewish soul food Saturday throughout the 
winter.
” 
Word has it that there was Alsatian cho-
lent, vegetarian cholent, Indian vegetarian 
cholent and some recipes suggest you can use 
as many kinds of beans as you wish. Never 
stir the cholent, eat slowly with a red wine, 
beer or schnapps. Serve with sour pickles, a 
big green salad and a compote for dessert. 
Then call your gastrointestinal doctor and 
make an appointment or maybe call 911. 
Meyer Lansky’s mother had better luck 
with her cholent, and her son found his 
career at 12 hauling cholent to crap games 
where he tossed his nickel (that should have 
been given to the baker to put the cholent in 
his oven). The first time he tossed his nickel 
in, he lost. He went home with an uncooked 
crock. The next time he won, and that start-
ed his gambling career. 
I think I’
d rather stick with chicken soup 
with regular matzah balls, roasts, corned beef 
sandwiches with Russian dressing, potato 
kugel and other kinds of kugel, blintzes and 
all the other wonderful Jewish foods to love 
and enjoy for many years. Forget the others 
— especially the tongue. 

Sandy Hermanoff is a writer and public relations con-

sultant. 

CORRECTION
In “March for Israel” (Nov. 16, page 10) Mark 
Kowalsky’s first name was spelled incorrectly 
in the story on page 12 and in a photo cap-
tion on page 13. 

Sandy 
Hermanoff

Petcha 

WIKIPEDIA

