Hamentaschen- For a Day of Feasting and Gladness.

A pastry even richer with nostalgia than with fruit.

When I was a little girl we lived in the St. Lawrence valley- a frozen, barren landscape inhabited mainly by Catholics, most of whom were sadly not Italian. The supermarkets were stocked with hamburger helper and canned potato salad. The food was terrible. Two or three times a year though we would drive to New York City. The Lower East Side, it was a juicy mouthful of paradise- toasted buttered bialys from Kossar's, cheese blinzes with sour cream and applesauce at Ratner's, Russ and Daughters' lox in all its supple lavishness. You know how we see those people coming to Greece from the northern counties and laying on the sand drinking in the sunshine like it's water and they're parched? It was like that- all this Jewish food quenched; it warmed. It sated a deeper, colder hunger of months, not hours.

The first hamantasch I ever had came from Moishe's Bakery on Second Avenue- an institution now but pretty new then. The pastry was a massive triangle- bigger than my hand, bulging with rich fruit filling. I tried one for the sheer dazzling size but kept getting it for the crumbling sandy crust, the almost chewy, bright tasting apricot puree (lekvar). They are made all year, but they are traditional for this holiday, Purim. No community has ever fed me better- ok, maybe the Italians (it would be a tie). In honor of this, and lots more, and despite the fact that I am barely even an *Episcopalian- let alone Jewish- when it's Purim, I make hamentaschen.

Inspired by the hamentaschen of Second Avenue in spirit only, these are quite a bit richer, and more petite (The buttery dough could not support such grand proportions. So just eat two.) I'm neither blessed nor bound by tradition, so I have been free to make up my ideal version.

We'll need:

250 g/ 1 generous C butter

150 g/ 3/4 C sugar

2 ml/ scant 1/2 tsp. salt

5 ml/ 1 tsp. vanilla extract

2 ml/ scant 1/2 tsp. almond extract

1 egg

320 g/ 2 1/2 C flour

For the filling:

Dried fruit of your choice, and a little bit of sugar if we need it.

Let's start with the filling-

Take about a cup of your favorite dried fruit and cover it well with water. Put a lid on the pot and set it on to simmer for quite a while, making sure the water doesn't boil off and they scorch. 

Prunes (pitted) are a great favorite. Here we have some dried nectarines. They have that same rich tanginess as the Blenheim apricots we have in California, and make a hamentasch beautiful to behold. I added a few pinches of sugar and a vanilla bean as they poached (with prunes, perhaps I would not). When the fruits are plump, boil the poaching liquid down rapidly (to keep in all the flavor) and then let them cool. Puree them in a food processor, test for sugar, and blend again until smooth. It should be a puree, not a paste- add some of the poaching liquid if it seems too dense.

The dough:

Beat the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. Add the salt and the vanilla and almond and beat again:

Add the egg, beat more, then blend in the flour gently. The dough will be soft enough to sink your fingertips into. Put it in the freezer for a few minutes so it is easier to work with. 

I've shaped the hamentaschen using a method that is unorthodox (in every sense), but just as quick, and more fun. Rolling out dough is messy- the flour all over the place, the dough sticking to the counter, and the scraps needing to be patched together and rolled out again, usually toughening in the process. Instead, you could form them with your hands- much more fun, less messy, and no waste. Form the dough into smooth balls the size of a very large walnut- this made 2 baking sheets of a lucky 13 pieces each. Then take each ball and pinch it into a round the size of your palm. Put a large spoonful of filling in the center, and fold the sides in to form a triangle:

These look more rustic than those from rolled dough cut with a wineglass, but I think they are the lovelier for it:

The rough edges hint at their buttery, crumbly texture when baked.

The dough has proportionally more butter than most recipes, so to help keep them from schlumping in the oven, I let them firm up in the freezer for 15 minutes before putting them in to bake at 180 c/ 375 f. They are petite, but dense with filling, and needed a full 25 minutes in my oven. Start checking them after 20 minutes. They should turn golden, with a little golden brown in the corners, but the dough will still be soft when you press it. It will firm up right away as it cools. The bottom takes a deeper color:

Be careful not to overbake them, as they will become less delicate. 

As you see, some of them will still schlump. They taste none the worse for it.

I also made a fig batch.

Indeed, it is a day of feasting and gladness. (And I am very glad for the community that taught me how to feast.)

*No food traditions. If you Google "Episcopalian food" the results are praiseworthy- lots of feeding of the hungry, but you'll find almost no recipes. People do joke about molded Jello salads- I confess a fondness for them.