From Vilna, vegetarian recipes that stand the test of time

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Fania Lewando was a Yiddish culinary superstar in Vilna, Lithuania, before World War II. A pioneer in the Jewish vegetarian movement, Lewando was a powerhouse who owned a kosher dairy restaurant that was frequented by Vilna’s literati, ran a kosher cooking school, and wrote a cookbook – making her the first woman to publish a vegetarian cookbook in Yiddish in Europe, according to cookbook author and culinary maven Joan Nathan.

 

In 2015, Lewando’s groundbreaking “Vegetarish-Dietisher Kokhbukh” was republished in a lavish English edition, complete with exquisite full-color illustrations from the original, as “The Vilna Vegetarian Cookbook.” Eva Jochnowitz is modestly credited on the cover as the translator, but, once inside, you’ll discover that it was Jochnowitz who not only translated, but annotated, tested and adapted the recipes “for the modern kitchen.”

Jochnowitz went through the heavy lifting of converting amounts – when given – from decagrams to cups and other modern measurements, but overall, she pretty much left these timeless recipes to speak for themselves.

In the style of prewar cookbooks – and especially prewar Jewish cookbooks – the directions are scanty. Be warned: This is not a cookbook for beginners or the faint of heart.

Lewando assumes a certain level of familiarity with cooking techniques and Jewish foods that most modern cooks lack. Be prepared to rely on your experience – or guess – about vegetable-prep techniques, to sort out counterintuitive listings of ingredients, and to make mistakes. But those who make the effort will be richly rewarded with mouthwatering recipes for everything from salads and soups to porridges, desserts, stews, wine and vitamin drinks.

The recipes are written in a single paragraph – there’s no separate lists of ingredients and no fussy directions. The cookbook is also organized by some system Lewando had in her head but which eludes us. For example, “cutlets” and “latkes” are in separate categories, although they yield a more or less identical product, and there’s a huge section simply called “miscellaneous dishes.”

The beauty of the simplicity of these recipes is twofold – they are quick and easy to whip up, and they are basic enough to be used as a starting point if you want to get more creative. For example, I made the blueberry dumpling recipe, but added a little flour to the blueberries because they were particularly large and juicy. When the dumplings were done, I didn’t find their pale, doughy look very appealing, so I lightly fried them in a mixture of butter and canola oil.

I brought them to the table, remarking, “Remember, these are old-style Jewish recipes – you won’t find this dessert as sweet as what you’re used to.” 

“Delicious,” my son and his friends declared.

 Emboldened, I then offered them some of the dumplings I hadn’t fried.

“Also delicious,” my son said enthusiastically. His friends agreed, but some wanted their dumplings with just a sprinkling of sugar, and some wanted them smothered with sour cream, as the recipe suggests.

Even if you’re not much of a cook, you might want this cookbook for your Jewish library. The recipes are thoroughly in line with modern-day vegetarianism and yet link us to our Jewish past. The art, from bilingual seeds packets, is so beautiful, I’ve leafed through the pages dozens and dozens of times.

The cookbook includes a forward by Nathan, an essay by Lewando’s great-nephew, a prewar essay, “Why Are Fruits and Vegetables So Important for the Organism?” and an explanation of why vegetarianism is a natural fit for Jews. Also included are excerpts from the guestbook at Lewando’s Vilna restaurant, including this one from Marc Chagall: “They say the food here is delicious, but unfortunately I came with a delicate stomach and was only able to taste a tiny bit, and it was delicious nonetheless.”

One final word, before you get cooking: Cooking temperatures are not included in the recipes, so Jochnowitz provides the following guide: When baking, set oven to 350 degrees; if the recipe says “a warm oven,” figure around 300 degrees; and 400 to 425 degrees for a “hot oven.”

Cauliflower Wiener Schnitzel

Chop 1 small piece of cauliflower [1/2 cup chopped], mix with one large egg, 1 tablespoon bread crumbs, and some salt, and beat well. Melt 1/4 cup butter in a frying pan, add the batter and cook on both sides [until it starts to brown]. Serve topped with a fried egg, and garnish with fried new potatoes and a gratin of carrots.

Cabbage and Apple Borscht

Finely shred 2 pounds cabbage (about 1 head) and grate 1 parsley root [a parsnip can be substituted], 2 carrots, 1 celery root and 2 peeled tart apples. Add to cabbage, along with the juice of 1 lemon. Cook in 2 quarts water for 1 hour. Meanwhile, sauté 2 large grated onions in 3/4 cup melted butter with 1 tablespoon flour, and add to the soup. Sprinkle in salt and sugar to taste. Serve with 1 tablespoon sour cream in each dish.

 

Creamed Beets

Roast 2 pounds beets in their skins until soft, then peel and grate. Squeeze the juice from 1 lemon. Add 1 tablespoon sugar, 2 tablespoons sour cream, and some salt. Mix well with the beets, and heat until warm.

Vitamin-Rich Fig Cakes

Cook a syrup of 1 cup sugar and 1 cup water. Meanwhile, chop 10 ounces figs. Add 1 cup chopped nuts, the juice of 1/2 lemon, and the grated zest of 1 lemon. Add everything to the syrup, and mix well. Then pour it out onto a flat plate, allow to cool, and cut into little cakes.

CYNTHIA BENJAMIN is a writer, editor and chef. She is a member of Congregation B’nai Israel, in Woonsocket.