Turns out: My mom’s matzo balls—the ones that cured my winter colds, celebrated my milestones at school, and punctuated our Jewish holidays—aren’t my mom’s at all. Or at least, they aren’t just hers. Countless other families eat the same ones, and not because we use a popular recipe. Because they come from a box.
This is the secret to the best matzo balls you’ll ever make.
I don’t say this lightly. In fact, as someone who edits recipes for a living, I resisted it at all costs. I have made all sorts of foods just for fun—bread, tofu, mayonnaise, ricotta, tortillas, yogurt, marshmallows. So matzo balls seemed like a no-brainer. Of course I could make these from scratch, and of course from scratch would be better.
I tested this theory for years. I bought matzo meal to control the seasoning. I used seltzer and beaten egg whites for lightness. Schmaltz for flavor. Neutral and olive oil for ease. Baking powder, baking soda. Ground spices like cumin and ginger and MSG. Every fresh herb under the sun. Simmered in salted water, chicken stock, vegetable broth. None of these were wrong. But none of them were right either.
It took being sick for months to realize why. In an effort to get me to eat anything, my mom gifted me a quart of soup and a box of Manischewitz. And this humble meal, which I could assemble half asleep, woke up something in me. Hunger. The matzo balls were fluffy and savory, neither floaters nor sinkers but delightfully in between, surely the best thing I’d eaten in weeks, maybe my entire life. I ordered six more boxes immediately.
The funny thing about memory is it’s more potent than any organic ingredient or fancy technique can ever hope to be. But even if you didn’t grow up on matzo ball soup and these dumplings hold no power over you? I’d still tell you to start with the box. Like potato chips—objectively better store-bought, don’t fight me on this—sometimes a factory just does it better.
My coworker Kate Kassin is also a believer in the mix for its foolproof, not-too-dense texture. “Light as air!” she says. Kate often reaches for Streit’s, but neither of us is picky. The more important distinction is giving into the convenience and resisting the urge to DIY.
Or at least, mostly resisting the urge. Kate, my mom, and myself all opt for homemade soup to go with our boxed matzo balls. My favorite is chickpea instead of chicken, with lots of celery and dill, the sort of vegetarian swap that would make my grandma roll her eyes. But isn’t that the best part of tradition? Making it your own.
Source link
