The Bread of Affliction

By Gilly Balcombe

‘This is the bread of affliction that our forefathers ate in the land of Egypt. Let all who are hungry come and eat! Let all who are needy come and celebrate Passover!’

The humble matzo has a strange and mythological background. Biblical sources tell us that, when the Jews fled from the slavery of Pharaoh in Egypt, they had but 18 minutes to escape (what, all 210,000 of them!?) and they carried on their backs their bread, that had not had enough time to rise. Thus was the matzo born – except that it was probably more like a pita or flatbread than an actual matzo in those days.

I’m assuming now that you all know what a matzo is. In religious terms it’s the unleavened bread that Jews eat at Pesach (Passover), the festival that commemorates the exodus from Egypt and gives us the tales of Moses, the parting of the Red Sea, the ten plagues, the wanderings in the desert and more. To this day all matzos have to be prepared and baked within that 18-minute window. Jesus’s last supper was the first night of Pesach (so Easter and Pesach always coincide, as they are both governed by the same lunar calendar) and the famous painting that can be seen in Venice is actually inaccurate, as it shows challah bread being eaten!

In the Diaspora (basically any country that isn’t Israel) the festival lasts for eight days, during which no leavened (risen) bread may be consumed, and there are all kinds of restrictions on foods that are permitted or otherwise. Israel gets time off for being…well, Israel, where it all started. Diaspora countries have an extra day tacked on because, many moons before the age of internet and telephones, it took time for the news of the festival date to reach them! Oh, and just to add more confusion, the foodie interdictions differ between Ashkenazi Jews who originate from Central and Eastern Europe, and Sephardi Jews who hail from the Latin and Middle Eastern countries. But that’s a whole other subject.

In culinary terms, and for comparison only, a matzo is a large cracker that bears a striking resemblance to a Carrs Water Biscuit, except that it’s about 15 to 20cm square, and somehow crunchier but not as hard. Are you getting the picture? It has small holes in it too, through which just about everything you spread on it oozes. It almost looks like lines of Braille.

Nonetheless, it’s a joy. A matzo sandwich takes me straight back to my childhood – a simple combination of matzo, butter and sliced Dutch cheese or egg mayo. As does fried matzo, or matzo brei: it’s basically a giant matzo pancake! Beat two eggs with a little milk, add two crushed matzos and let them soak in the egg mixture until the matzos have softened. Melt a decent knob of butter in a frying pan, add the matzo and egg mixture and let it cook till the base has set. Flip it over (this does require some care and cannot be done as you would flip a crêpe!) and allow the other side to set - both sides should be golden brown when you slide it onto the plate. The trick is to have one circular pancake rather than a scrambled heap, which happens easily when you get it slightly wrong.

Now once it’s out of the pan the fun starts, because there are so many ways people eat their fried matzo! My preference is brown sugar and cinnamon sprinkled over the top, because nothing quite comes close to that sugary, buttery flavour. There are those who like it with tomato ketchup, and I once met someone who thought the epitome of a fine matzo brei was to have it with vinegar. No, just wrong.

Then there’s the matzo pizza, invented by exasperated mums to satisfy recent generations of little darlings who were deprived of their Pizza Express or Pizza Hut fix for a week. First, line your baking sheet with parchment paper: this is essential so that (a) you can easily scrape off the delicious cheesy bits that ooze through the above-mentioned holes and (b) you can actually clean your baking tray afterwards. Slice lots of Cheddar, some spring onions, some tomatoes. Grab whatever herbs or spices you fancy. Start with one matzo per person (it’s never enough) and build your pizza. Put a decent layer of cheese on top of your matzo, then a layer of thinly sliced tomatoes over which you then scatter finely chopped spring onion and whatever herbs and spices take your fancy. Grill until the cheese is bubbling nicely. Use a large spatula (very important!) to transfer matzo to plate and remember not to leave any of the flattened blobs of grilled cheese behind on the parchment paper.

But you don’t just cook it… matzo is a great way of transporting all kinds of food to your mouth. The butter and jam combo is a staple, smoked salmon with some cream cheese, sliced Gouda as I mentioned before, chopped liver, tuna filling … there are endless possibilities. It’s also brilliant crumbled up in your chicken soup with your kneidlach (matzo balls or dumplings) and lokshen (vermicelli).

Bread of affliction? Maybe for Pharoah’s slaves, but these days it’s something everybody can enjoy as an alternative to traditional bread. And don’t forget the really important part of the quote… ‘Let all who are hungry come and eat.’ Share culture, share traditions, open your home so we can all learn about one another through the food on our plates and the company we enjoy.