The other day I took a walk through Wally's, my local wine emporium's
autumn sale and was bottle shocked by the number of kosher wine choices
on display—Ninety-seven Jewtique labels. From Israel to Australia to
the Valley of Napa, there are rabbis rendering grapes right for Jewish
tables the world over.
Although pleased as wine punch that my brethren can sip with
confidence from so many vineyards at all the holiday tables to come, I
felt drowned in a sudden wave of nostalgia, for, over in a less popular
corner, I spied some "Man Oh Manischewitz – What a Wine" languishing,
neglected for a mere $4.99 in its own dust.
And a flood of bittersweet tasting memories ensued…of my parentally
enforced Prohibition. The years of my youth when I was served Welch's
grape juice in a grown up glass at the holidays to placate my longing
for the real deal. I sipped the faux, while the elders were slurping Manischewitz, the manna of the God, the only choice in that era, with
lip-smacking satisfaction. I'd lift my grape laced goblet, toast and
boast—'Lookit! Lookit how fast I can drink it!"
Bad habits were setting in so soon in my life. I had just licked
the thumb-sucking addiction, and here I was mainlining the gateway
drug grape juice to ready myself for the real deal . My aunts and
uncles would laugh and applaud. Oh, how I could chug the stuff down,
purpling my mouth with flavor, longing for lipstick like my mother wore
Joan Crawford style, well beyond the outline of her real lips. Her
lipstick on a wine glass seemed the height of adulthood to me. I
couldn't wait to grow into them both. When finally deemed a woman at
age thirteen in a brand new training bra (I didn't outgrow the training
wheels on my bike, either til I was fourteen), I was served Manischewitz
Concord Grape for the very first time.
It was so warm and sweet like a lollipop, my criterion for good
things at that time. How much like lollipop could a thing taste?
Koolaid was incredible, Hawaiian Punch was lollypop primo, jello was swell, those flavored colored waters that came in waxed little soda
bottles were scrumptious – and Manischewitz was the best yet. I slurped
it, and other versions of it and extra helpings and paid a price as the
aftermath was not so nice. Granted, I hadn't a very sophisticated
palette, and my precocious epicurean taste for sweet wines didn't
evolve much from those days, as I couldn't stomach the hangovers. But,
like a first kiss, the experience has never faded from my lips.
Flash forward to me lifting the bottles to read their
labels—Cherry, Concord Dry, Black Cherry, Blackberry,
Loganberry…Elderberry? (The latter won't be gracing my table, you can
count on that!) Now at a vintage age, I had toured and understood the
wine making process as it involved grapes. But, how were the logan and
elder harvested and kosherized, I mused. Were rambunctious rabbis doing
the kazatski to klezmer music, juicing their feet on all sorts of
fruits for fermentation in happy vats somewhere? Where were these very
berry wine vines and how could I visit?
I asked Glen Curtis of the Widmer Winery in Naples New York for
some insights, as he has harvested the grapes for Manischewitz bottles since the
late 1980s, when Manischewitz was the best-selling brand name in kosher
wines. He gently explained that there are no joyous rabbinical feet
smooshing the fruit in madcap berry dances to Hava Na Gila. Rather,
loganberry and elderberry juice are unromantically grown and purchased
through the proper channels from Washington State, cherry and
blackberry juices from Europe. The process of fermentation is done
with great sobriety in massive containers to prepare them for
bottling. The formal blessing is performed by representatives of the
Union of Orthodox Jewish Congregations of America.
But no matter. I loyally bought all the berry and grape versions
left in Wally's discount bin. And if no one wants to hoist a glass of
my Manischewitz for imbibing, I'll simply smuggle it into some hamisha
good cooking in the holiday months to come.
STUFFED CHICKEN WITH BLACKBERRY GLAZE
Ingredients:
4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves
1 cup flour
2 teaspoons white pepper
2 eggs
1 (11.6 oz) box Manischewitz Kishka
2 Tablespoons corn oil
½ cup Manischewitz clear condensed chicken broth
¾ cup Manischewitz
Blackberry wine
2 sprigs fresh parsley
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Prepare kishka according to package directions using stovetop method. Cool to room temperature.
In a small bowl, season flour with pepper. Beat small eggs in another small bowl.
Cut a deep horizontal pocket into each breast of chicken. Stuff 1/3 to ½
cup of kishka into each piece of chicken (as much as you can fit!).
Pinch the edges of pocket closed and tuck ends under.
Dip the stuffed breast in beaten egg then dredge through seasoned flour.
Heat oil in skillet over medium flame.
When oil is hot, pan fry the chicken until golden brown, about 4 minutes on each side.
Remove chicken to shallow baking dish and finish cooking in the oven for an additional 20 minutes.
To the hot skillet, add the Manischewitz Blackberry wine and chicken
broth. Continue cooking over medium flame until reduced to a fine glaze
- the same 20 minutes while the chicken is in the oven!
Remove the chicken from the oven, pour blackberry sauce over all pieces.
Garnish with parsley and serve immediately. Happy New Year!