מַצָּה מְטֻגֶּנֶת

Tastes of Home:  Sweet Fried Matzah for Pesach

This year, as פֶּסַח (Passover – פֶּסַח) came around, I found myself far from home, but close to the tastes and stories that shaped my childhood.

My grandmother, my סַבְתָא (סַבְתָא – grandma), was born in Tetuán, a city in northern Morocco that, at the time, was part of the Spanish protectorate. This little city was a fascinating blend of cultures – Moroccan, Spanish, and Jewish. The Jewish community in Tetuán, known for its rich traditions, songs, and food, lived with a mix of deep spirituality and everyday joy. They spoke Spanish, lived Jewish holidays fully, and cooked meals that brought all three cultures together in the most delicious way.

Unlike the spicy dishes we usually associate with Moroccan cuisine, Tetuani Jewish food leans sweet, soft, and aromatic. Think of dishes with Spanish names, Moroccan soul, and Jewish heart. Sweet couscous with pumpkin, cinnamon and lots of sugar, sweet tomato Salsa, yummy pastries covered with honey… And of course, my סַבְתָא’s fried matzah in sweet syrup — a recipe she makes every year for Passover.

My grandmother is a master of “eye measurements” – you know the kind:
“סוּכָּר, קֶמַח, שֶׁמֶן – וּמְעָרְבִבִים. זֶה פָּשׁוּט!”
(“Sugar, flour, and oil – and you mix it. It’s simple!”)
Which of course means… absolutely nothing to anyone else. Because somehow, even though it’s “simple”, it comes out perfectly only when she makes it!

So, for her birthday this year, all of us grandkids came together and created a recipe book with her favorite dishes. My cousin even started a blog where she turns סַבְתָא’s vague descriptions into real, measurable, foolproof recipes.  Rotem’s Beyti

That’s how, even while sitting in a little kitchen in Stockholm, I was able to fry up the same sweet, golden matzah she makes every year, and suddenly the room filled with the smell of home.

We had a small Seder with friends, and the fried matzah was a hit. Everyone kept asking for more. The syrup soaked into the matzah just enough to make it sticky and sweet, but still crispy and fun.

So this פֶּסַח, while you crunch your מַצָּה (matzah – מַצָּה) and sing “מַה נִּשְׁתַּנָּה” (What has changed? – מַה נִּשְׁתַּנָּה), I invite you to try something sweet, old, and full of flavor from the Jewish kitchen of Tetuán. And maybe you’ll also feel a little closer to your jewish roots.

חַג פֶּסַח שָׂמֵחַ!
(Happy Passover! – חַג פֶּסַח שָׂמֵחַ)