lulav and etrog, cucumbers and lettuce

I was recently amused to see a lulav and etrog on display at the Berkeley Bowl. Apparently, you can order them from a guy at the produce section and buy them along with the rest of your groceries.

The lulav and etrog are symbols used in the Jewish celebration of Sukkot, or the Feast of Tabernacles. The lulav and etrog consist of a citron, a ripe palm frond, a myrtle branch, and a willow branch. Each element of the Four Species, as they’re called, represents a different type of Jew. Like Voltron, the Four Species are bound together to create a greater whole, representing the entire Jewish nation. Traditionally, the lulav and etrog are blessed and then gently shaken in four directions, representing the presence of the divine in the four corners of the earth.

My fondest memories of Sukkot are of eating in the sukkah. A sukkah is a sort of temporary hut built outdoors, with a roof typically made of palm branches. The idea is to re-create the huts in which the Jews lived as they traveled the desert between Egypt and the promised land. The sukkah must have a roof that is sparse enough for dwellers to see the stars at night. Ideally, you’re supposed to live in the sukkah for seven days, meaning eating, sleeping, hanging out. For children, this is great news. Any child who loves building forts and camping has a field day, or rather seven field days, during Sukkot.

But nothing is quite like a candle-lit holiday dinner in a sukkah. The palm frond roof rustles in the breeze, and the stars peek through as you enjoy your dinner. The air is permeated by the perfume of the branches, the sweet smell of challah dipped in honey, and the fragrant etrog which is carefully wrapped in a long lock of flax and laid to rest in its own little etrog box.

At the end of the holiday, the sukkah is dismantled and saved for the following year, the sukkah decorations are put away, and the palm fronds lie beside the trash bins awaiting garbage day.

But the etrog isn’t thrown out. Unlike lemons, citrons don’t rot. Instead, they shrivel and harden, which only intensifies their lovely fragrance. An old etrog might find itself snuggled in a sweater drawer. In a Sepharadi or Mizrahi home, etrogs might become etrog jam.

If you can find citrons in your area (try next week, after the holiday), you might want to try making etrog jam, especially if you’re a marmalade enthusiast. Citron jam has a particular flavor of its own. It’s Sukkot in a jar.

About shelly

Exploring the vast culinary jungles of the San Francisco Bay Area, and my own kitchen. Khaki shorts and safari hat optional.
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