On a daily basis, my family uses Yiddish words. My mother grew up in an area where she heard the slang-phrases, thus making it common in our family, even though we technically have no cultural nor religious ties to the language. When Jenn and I would hype up the dog to where he was running all over the house like a wild-ass animal, we’d hear: “Stop it! You’re making him mashugana!” The groan following too much fried food preceded, “Ehg, the ajada.” “Jill! You’ve got schmutz all over your face!” was the typical retort after an ice cream splurge.
When Rob first heard some of this language during our dating times, he would quietly ask for a translation, but now he uses the phrases just as much. So our conversations go something like this:
Rob (horrified): “Your mother is cutting the fat off the bacon with scissors.”
Me: “Yeah. Thinking about eating all that bacon fat makes her verklempt.”
Another word often used, especially in my household, is “noshing.” Google-ly it’s defined as: verb, informal, to eat food enthusiastically or greedily. My definition is: eating enough popcorn, peanuts, and wasabi peas between the 3:00-6:00 hours to turn me into a human pub mix. I don’t go as far to be binge-worthy and unhealthy, but it’s not the best habit to have (and Rob doesn’t exactly share in it).
So feeling the urge to nosh, but not having any of my noshing goods in the pantry, it inspired me to create something else – something a little bit fancy, a little bit booshy, a dish I would like to order as an appetizer with a glass of bubbles. Nordically inspired, I’m super into pickling and marinating, and my mind (as it often does), turned to cheese. The light in my fridge divinely directed me to the creamy, fresh ball of mozzarella, just pleading for its makeover. In 5 minutes, Marinated Mozerella was born: the cheese was thickly sliced and soaking in a bowl of 1 diced shallot, 1 minced garlic clove, 1:1 ratio of white balsamic vinegar to rice wine vinegar, all the basil I could manage (about 1 tbsp, chopped, but more would have been dandy), a pinch of red pepper flakes, and a sprinkling season of s&p. Making sure all the slices were submerged, my lovely cheese had a quick 30-minute marinade. Placing a handful of baby spinach on a plate, I then used two slices of the cheese – with its marinade – and finished the dish with a drizzle of amazingly thick extra virgin olive oil and a sprinkle of Maldon sea salt. Is there a Yiddish phrase for holy cow?
Any way prepared, this little gem of a loosely-termed “salad” is perfect for a fancy entertaining evening, or simply for your afternoon nosh. Discussing the flexibility of this delicious dish with my mom, we thought it would be fantastic slightly warmed over green veg like beans and asparagus. Or maybe, it would be succulent atop tender, slow-roasted, sweet Roma tomatoes. I suggested placed on top of bread for a crostini. Mom’s response: “I would call that pizza – even in Yiddish.”