Arthur Schwartz Celebrates ROSH HASHANAH
Excerpted from Jewish Home Cooking
By Arthur Schwartz
POT-ROASTED BRISKET
Serves at least 12
Brisket is the odds-on favorite celebration food in Jewish homes, the ne plus ultra of main courses. It is the centerpiece of the Passover Seder, when, in deference to the sacrificial lamb that was roasted before the Exodus from Egypt, custom dictates that no dry-roasted meat be eaten. It is also the way to bring in the New Year at the Rosh Hashonah feast. It is prepared for birthday parties, for anniversaries, for “company,” and for homecomings, pointing to the fact that it is a dish of memory, a dish that connects us to our past. Surprisingly, the only time it is not ritualistically served is for the festive Sabbath meal on Friday nights. That’s usually a chicken dinner.
As in any American home, a huge hunk of meat represents attainment of the American Dream. That’s probably why brisket, the most impressive and, at one time, the most succulent kosher cut of beef, became idolized, you should pardon the expression.
Unfortunately, brisket, a cut that comes from the underside of the steer, below the shoulder, has suffered greatly by the change in modern American beef production and eating habits, both of which emphasize leanness. To be good, brisket needs to be fatty, not only on the outside, but within. Today’s meat--in general--is vastly leaner than grandma’s. As a result, our briskets can never--well, hardly ever--be as good.
You are most likely to have a succulent roast if you cook a whole brisket. The cut is composed of two distinct muscles that run in different directions, which is why you must cut them apart, after cooking, to carve them properly. But they cook better together than apart.
The fattier top layer is called “second cut,” “thick cut,” or “deckle,” and its fat lubricates the leaner bottom, which is called “first cut,” “thin cut,” “flat cut,” and “point cut.” The “second cut” deckle defines the word succulent. (By the way, these terms apply to corned beef, too, which is brine cured brisket.)
Unfortunately, only the leaner bottom piece, trimmed of nearly all visible fat, which is not a virtue, is what one generally finds in the supermarket. The goodly layer of fat between the two pieces on a whole brisket keeps the meat very moist. Exterior fat is easy to trim off after the meat is cooked. Cooking a whole brisket is the optimum for succulence.
Because whole briskets are hard to find in a supermarket meat case, however, they often have to be ordered. In addition, a full brisket will weigh between eight and ten pounds, which may be too much meat for many families or occasions.
So, if you can only buy a “thin cut” “first cut” brisket, look for a more marbled piece, and take the one that has the most surface fat. Extremely lean pieces often cook up stringy or hard no matter how much care you take.
I learned to make pot roast from my mother who tried many contemporized versions over her lifetime. Like most 1950s homemakers, she wanted to incorporate modern ingredients into her cooking, either to make the traditional dishes more American, or for novelty, or for added convenience and speed in the kitchen. She started with her mother’s recipe for brisket, who possibly made it her mother's Russian immigrant way. But my modern 1950s mom also tried pot roast made with ketchup, and for a period, when we lived in the same house with a Neapolitan-American family, pot roast made with canned Italian tomatoes, really ragu made in the oven. Like the rest of America, she tried Lipton’s dehydrated onion soup mix and, finally, the worst, in the 1970s, pot roast made with Harvey’s Bristol Cream Sherry. That last had to have been a recipe devised to promote Harvey’s, and an indication of how important the American Jewish market was for upscale products. In the end, with a little encouragement from her children, she returned to tradition and the essentials. That is: a whole brisket, fat and all, no browning or liquid necessary, and a lot, a lot, a lot of onions, which eventually become the substance of the “gravy,” which is really just vegetable and meat juices.
Everyone always expects pot roast to be measurably better the second day. It isn’t necessarily so, at least not with today’s leaner meat. Its optimum moment of glory is 45 minutes to a couple of hours after it has come from the oven. Still, there are plenty of reasons to cook a pot roast a day ahead and reheat it. You gain convenience, the ability to skim the fat off with ease, and perhaps even a little more depth of flavor. What you lose is some juiciness.
This recipe can easily be halved for half the amount of meat.
2 very large garlic cloves, crushed with a bit of salt
1 8 to 10-pound brisket
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 pounds onions, halved and sliced
3 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into ¼-inch thick rounds
2 large outside ribs celery, sliced ¼-inch thick
4 small bay leaves
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Rub the smashed garlic into both sides of the meat. Salt and pepper the meat on both sides.
Spread the onions, carrots and celery on the bottom of a roasting just large enough to hold the meat. Put the meat over the vegetables. Put 2 bay leaves under the meat, 2 on top of the meat. There is no need to add any liquid to the pan. The vegetables and meat will produce enough moisture as they cook.
Cover the pan tightly with aluminum foil and cook for 3 to 4 hours, until the meat is fork tender.
Let the meat rest 30 to 45 minutes, then slice: Cut the second cut off of the first cut and trim off and discard the layer of fat between them.
Slice both cuts across the grain, either straight down or at a slight diagonal angle.
Serve the onions and vegetables with the juices as a sauce for both the meat and any starch accompaniment. If desired, you can puree some of the vegetables to make a thicker sauce.
To cook ahead, take the brisket from the oven before it is actually fully tender. Let it cool until just warm, then refrigerate it overnight. After being refrigerated overnight, the congealed fat will peel off the surface of the juices easily.
Slice the meat while it is cold. Use a long-bladed, preferably serrated knife (such as a bread knife) and slice the meat about 1/4-inch thick. It will require a sawing motion. Do not disturb the conformation of the meat. Return the meat to the roasting pan, with all the juices, as if it was still a whole piece.
Let the meat warm up to room temperature. Return the meat to a 350-degree oven, keeping it covered for the first 30 minutes. Then, uncover the meat, baste it with the juices, and return it to the oven to heat through, to fully tenderize, and to color a little. Baste it a few more times with pan juices during this last 45 minutes to hour of reheating.
Serve with kasha (buckwheat groats): Follow the directions on the back of the box, and top each helping with onions and juices from the pot roast. Or prepare kasha varnishkes). Or serve with mashed potatoes. A green vegetable is up to you.
WINE-POACHED PEARS
Serves 6
I have vivid memories of these rosy-hued pears that my grandmother always served very well chilled on Passover and Rosh Hashonah, and occasionally at other special times, too. They are incredibly refreshing at the end of a heavy meal, and they were the only thing she cooked with wine. Then, there was always the leftover syrup she put in the refrigerator. My father and I loved adding it to seltzer to make a drink even better than store-bought soda.
Elsie would make these in large quantity--we were always at least 15 for a holiday meal--but as I think they are a delicious dessert for any day of the week, I’ve portioned it down to just six pears. Make sure to use a pot in which the pears fit closely. If the pot is too big you will need to make way too much syrup.
1 cup sugar
1 cup water
1 1/2 cups sweet red Passover wine, such as Malaga or Concord
1 or 2 1/2-inch wide strips lemon zest (optional)
6 ripe but firm Bosc pears
In a 2 1/2 to 3-quart saucepan, combine the sugar, water, wine, and lemon zest, if using. Bring to a boil, stirring a few times to help dissolve the sugar.
With a swivel-bladed vegetable peeler, peel the pears, leaving the stems on. There is no need to core them.
Place the peeled pears on their sides in the syrup. The syrup will not entirely cover the pears. Adjust the heat so the syrup simmers gently. Cook the pears for 45 minutes. Every 10 minutes or so turn the pears so they cook and color evenly.
Let the pears cool in the syrup, again turning them every 10 minutes or so for at least 30 minutes.
Chill well before serving.

