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5 surprising (and delicious) ways chefs are using matzo

Matzo is known to Jews observing Passover as "the bread of affliction," and after eight days of eating the stuff, that title really starts to ring true. An overgrown cracker with cumbersome ridges and all the flavor of copy paper, it's an inelegant sandwich vehicle that tends to shatter under the pressure of a vigorous schmear.

Chef Yehuda Sichel spoons some bitter-greens gnocchi onto a plate for serving at Abe Fisher in Center City.
Chef Yehuda Sichel spoons some bitter-greens gnocchi onto a plate for serving at Abe Fisher in Center City.Read moreTRACIE VAN AUKEN

Matzo is known to Jews observing Passover as "the bread of affliction," and after eight days of eating the stuff, that title really starts to ring true. An overgrown cracker with cumbersome ridges and all the flavor of copy paper, it's an inelegant sandwich vehicle that tends to shatter under the pressure of a vigorous schmear.

And yet, it turns out, matzo is also surprisingly versatile. At a time of year when other wheat-based foods are off the table, it can be a cook's secret weapon.

Crumbled into a fine meal, it can make not only matzo balls but pie crust and gnocchi. Whole sheets of it - soaked, marinated, or cooked - make a respectable alternative to lasagna in a layered casserole or serve as an oven-puffed crust for a pot pie. It can be dipped in egg and fried, of course - but also formed into a sweet or savory bread pudding. And, left more or less intact, it can be dressed up with avocado and lemon juice or a slice of Brie and fig jam. Or it can be drowned in a coating of chocolate and toffee for an addictive snack.

Growing up on mouth-numbingly dry matzo peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, I was unfamiliar with this bounty. My own moment of matzo enlightenment came at a friend's seder, where he served a matzo spinach pie. In it, layers of matzo stood in for phyllo dough to encase a filling of spinach and feta cheese.

It turns out clever Sephardic chefs have been cooking such pies for generations. Called "mina," they can be layered with fillings such as lamb or eggplant.

Regulars at Zahav, the Israeli restaurant in Society Hill, might recall a version of the dish filled with braised, shredded brisket and carrots. Chef Michael Solomonov soaks the matzo in water a few minutes until it's pliable, and then uses it to form a top and bottom crust encasing a pan of brisket. After 15 minutes under a broiler, the top is puffed and crisp.

This year, I plan to serve my seder guests a version with artichokes. (Also on my suddenly telescoping Passover to-cook list is a breakfast mina: I'm thinking something quichelike, with eggs, goat cheese, and roasted red peppers.)

Yehuda Sichel, who was a chef at Zahav and is now head chef at Abe Fisher in Center City, is designing a Passover menu, available Sunday only, based on unleavened bread.

Growing up, he got used to innovating with matzo, using it in lasagna or even crumbling it into very sweet coffee. ("It's hard to describe, but it's great," he said.)

Now, his experiments tend to be a little more refined. For the Passover dinner, he's making bitter-greens gnocchi. He'll start with salt-baked potatoes, mix in blanched and pureed parsley, celery leaves, and romaine, and add some matzo meal to the dough. "It was basically the same as flour, which is pretty convenient," he said. He's serving it with browned butter and cheese.

A humbler but still satisfying approach is to crumble matzo into dime-size chunks, then soak it with egg and bake it into a bread pudding. Mixed with cottage cheese, raisins, and some sugar, it makes a respectable brunch entrée. I recently tried Amelia Saltsman's version from the Seasonal Jewish Kitchen, which calls for slow-cooked leeks and fresh parsley - though I added freshly grated Parmesan (a nod to my secular belief system that cheese improves almost everything).

Even chefs who weren't raised Jewish have been tinkering with matzo. Marcie Turney, who has matzo-ball soup on the lunch menu at comfort-food spot Bud & Marilyn's in Center City, started experimenting and recognized unlimited potential.

"Wherever you would use bread crumbs on a roast with herbs and citrus and garlic, you could substitute matzo for that. Or, in a pie crust, use it where you would use graham cracker and then add almonds to give it fattiness and hold it together," she said. "Once you think about it as a chef, you're like, 'Wait, you could use it in a lot of different ways.' "

She's running a special dessert for Passover: a pie with matzo-almond-thyme crust and strawberry-rhubarb filling.

On East Passyunk Avenue in South Philadelphia, Tova du Plessis will not be converting her brand-new Essen Bakery to a Passover-only menu. But the Jewish bakery will likely have macaroons, she said, and a few other flour-free treats.

Passover, she said, "was my favorite holiday growing up. My mom used to buy a big case of avocados every Passover. We would eat matzo with avocado, lemon juice, and salt."

One of her go-to recipes is an irresistible chocolate-and-toffee-coated matzo studded with toasted almonds. She'll be selling it at the bakery through Passover and agreed to share the recipe.

"Anybody can make it, and it's really few ingredients," she said, so the key is to use good-quality dark chocolate and sea salt. "It's very common, but I really do think mine is the best."

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