correction
A previous version of this article included an incomplete first step in the recipe, along with repeated text. This version has been corrected.
My first encounter with kasha varnishkes — an Eastern European Jewish dish made with buckwheat, noodles, fried onions and sometimes mushrooms — wasn’t clad in family lore and tradition. Despite my family’s shtetl roots, I have no memories of eating it as a child, no romantic story of cozying up with a bowl of it while listening to klezmer music.
None of my Russian Jewish friends who immigrated to the United States were familiar with kasha varnishkes back in the U.S.S.R., and our parents couldn’t tell us much about it either. And yet, all my American Jewish friends knew of it from early childhood, recalling eating it around the holidays.
It appears that kasha varnishkes traded the old country for its new adopted home. Which is too bad, because buckwheat, pasta and onions were always in plentiful supply in most Soviet homes.
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So, how did I hear about this humble peasant dish born out of poverty that originated in the old country and made its way across the ocean? Ironically, for this part of my Jewish culinary education, I have “Seinfeld” to thank, specifically the episode where a rabbi offers it to Elaine.
In the States, you’ll find kasha varnishkes on many Ashkenazi holiday tables for Rosh Hashanah, Sukkot, Hanukkah and Purim as well as for a Shabbat meal, often alongside roasted chicken or brisket, the latter working particularly well with the dish that is great for sopping up brisket gravy. Around Sukkot, which marks the end of harvest and where courses often include seasonally available fruits and vegetables, kasha varnishkes, though a supporting player, holds the role similar to stuffing or dressing around Thanksgiving.
It may not be flashy, but without it a meal somehow seems incomplete.
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I love that kasha varnishkes doesn’t require precision, can be made in parts and thrown together later, scales up easily, is inexpensive to make and freezes like a charm. In other words, make double the amount you need for a meal and freeze the rest — your future self will be grateful.
As often as you will find an adoring kasha fan, you’ll also meet someone who will disdain its basic components. Food writer Leah Koenig writes in her cookbook “Modern Jewish Cooking” that some may dismiss kasha varnishkes as a “dry and tasteless dish, but that simply means they have not had it made properly. And by properly, I mean made with a delightfully obscene amount of fat.”
I couldn’t agree more with Koenig. Kasha varnishkes shines, and I mean really shines, when you use an ample amount of fat to make it. My choice of fat is schmaltz (chicken fat) or duck fat, both of which I keep in my fridge, but olive oil or any neutral oil works well. If you plan to serve this as part of a dairy spread (and keep kosher), butter or vegan butter is downright delightful.
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Though bow-tie pasta, sometimes known as farfalle, is the preferred noodle of choice, that seems to be an American adaptation, which took hold in the 20th century, so if you like a different noodle shape or prefer to make your own, by all means go ahead. Delicate strands of homemade egg noodle will only enhance the dish.
The onions can be cooked to your level of liking: lightly caramelized, the color of mahogany or even crisped up and “bien cuit” if you like a little burned onion crunch (I do). The only rule for kasha varnishkes where onions are concerned — and this is generally true for all savory Ashkenazi Jewish cooking — is to use lots of them. Yellow onions are my favorite and are least expensive, but Vidalias enhance the dish with their mellow sweetness.
A personal rule: I never skip mushrooms in my kasha varnishkes. Not only do they make a dish suitable for vegetarians and vegans as well as gluten-free folks, but the mushrooms deliver a dose of umami and allow the dish to stand on its own as a meat-free main course.
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And because I’m nothing if not true to my roots, I like to add a generous heap of chopped dill and parsley right before serving, because they also imbue the kasha with fresh flavor and a pop of color, which will make your table look more festive.
And should you have leftovers the next day (lucky you) consider crisping leftover kasha in a skillet — with more fat, of course — and topping with an egg, for a scrappy, delicious savory breakfast or lunch that will surely feel anything but meager.
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Storage Notes: Leftover kasha varnishkes can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 4 days or frozen for up to 1 month. See NOTES for reheating instructions.
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