All products featured on Epicurious are independently selected by our editors. However, when you buy something through our retail links, we may earn an affiliate commission.
I’ve long admired Leah Koenig’s ability to weave together the stories and recipes of so many diasporic Jewish communities, including Turkish, Yemenite, and Ashkenazi American Jews, among many others. She’s the author of seven cookbooks on the subject, including The Jewish Cookbook, Modern Jewish Cooking, and her latest, Portico: Cooking and Feasting in Rome’s Jewish Kitchen. In Portico, Koenig dives deep into the traditions and foodways of Roman Jews.
Portico is the kind of cookbook you can page through like a novel, reading for culinary wisdom, but also for deeply heartening stories and maybe a little life advice. The recipe inspiration abounds: A Libyan Jewish tomato spread that tastes “like concentrated sunshine;” a pumpkin frittata eaten by Sephardi Jews on Rosh Hashanah “to ward off evil decrees;” and a whole chapter on fritters—fried artichokes (a hallmark of Roman Jewish cuisine), fried baccalà, and honey-soaked matzo fritters. But equally important is the storytelling.
“For 315 years, Rome's Jews were forced to live inside a walled slum,” Koenig writes. The book’s artful photography plants the book firmly in Rome’s Jewish Ghetto, and over the course of the narration, you’ll meet a full cast of characters: Father-and-son restaurateurs who devise a kosher version of Italy’s signature pasta carbonara; a Libyan Jewish home cook masterfully multitasking as she prepares Shabbat dinner; and a matriarch preserving family recipes in a hand-written cookbook. Portico is equal parts transportive and engrossing, with Koenig herself acting as historian, anthropologist, student, and teacher. You’ll want to flip through these pages over and over, and over again.
Who this book is for
Since I’m 50% Jewish and 50% Italian, this book feels deeply personal to me. It’s helped me connect the dots between the cultures I grew up with, their foodways overlapping more than I could’ve predicted. But you don’t need to be Jewish nor Italian to appreciate Portico—it’s equally suited for amateur historians or travelers with a case of wanderlust.
The book starts with a deep-dive into Roman Jewish history, spanning from the arrival of Sephardi and Libyan Jews in Rome, to World War II, and finally to the Roman Jewish community today. Flip through the pages and you’re guaranteed to learn something. If it’s wanderlust you’re chasing, the book’s photography—by Kristin Teig, who accompanied Koenig on her travels—will transport you right to Rome’s sunlight-dappled streets.
What we can’t wait to cook
Given the abundance of locally-produced olive oil, frying is a tenet of Roman-Jewish cuisine. So that’s the section I’ll start in: Fritters (fritti). The Jewish-style fried artichokes, described by Koenig as a “Roman Jewish gift to the world,” feels like the right place to start. Once I’m able to snag zucchini blossoms at the farmers market, I’ll fill them with mozzarella and anchovies, as Koenig does, and fry them too. Any other rogue produce I pick up at the market will get the deep-fried treatment, following the book’s formula for mixed fried vegetables (a vegetarian riff on fritto misto). And the honey-soaked matzo fritters will certainly be making an appearance on my Passover table.
For an upcoming brunch, I’m eyeing this simple frittata, which pairs spinach, pine nuts, and sweet raisins—plus rich mascarpone.
Since I prefer not to eat pork (the remnants of a semi-kosher upbringing), I have my eye on the pasta carbonara with zucchini. I’ll serve it with a simple side from the Vegetables (verdure) section, like a sweet and tender fennel gratin or sautéed dandelion greens. I’ll end the meal with abambar, the Libyan cousin to the amaretti cookies my Italian mother always kept on the counter.
%2520copy.jpg)
