By Melody Amsel-Arieli, Special to JTNews
One cold, drizzly Hanukkah morning, our bus slowly wound its way toward the farthest reaches of Jerusalem. As it emptied out, a couple of elderly women drew together, for both warmth and warm conversation. After dwelling on their children and grandchildren, their talk touched on Hanukkah goodies. When I caught the word “sfinj,” my ears perked up. I moved in closer to hear.
Sfinj (which rhymes with fringe), are the North African Jews’ answer to Ashkenazi potato latkes and Israeli jelly doughnuts. Like these two treats that commemorate Hanukkah’s miracle, sfinj are fried in oil. Like jelly doughnuts, sfinj are leavened. But here all resemblance ends. Whether coaxed into plump pillows or crowned with rings of decorative holes, sfinj never contain jelly. Moreover, whipped up flour, yeast, a bit of sugar, and a splash of water, sfinj are far less sweet and far lighter than most other traditional Hanukkah treats.
Although all sfinj are as light as air, sfinj recipes vary widely.
“I fry my sfinj in extra-hot oil,” announced one bus passenger, “to keep them extra light.”
“Try making them with soda water instead,” observed her neighbor dryly, “and they’ll be even lighter.”
At this, a bevy of women sitting across the way joined the fray.
“In Algeria, we made ours with milk,” said one.
“We Tunisians add orange juice,” replied another.
As each woman revealed her sfinj secrets, feelings ran high. Despite the cold, the conversation turned hot and heavy.
The word sfinj, so strange to Western ears, is evidently Mugrabi, the Judeo-Arabic dialect still spoken among Moroccan Jews. Although its meaning, as well as its culinary origins, has been lost over time, these doughnuts remain popular eating. Who eats sfinj? Anyone blessed to light Hanukkah candles alongside North African family members, friends, or co-workers.
Jaqueline Alon, born in Casablanca, Morocco, learned the fine art of pastry making at her mother’s knee. Although she has spent most of her life in Israel, she still devotes long hours creating traditional Moroccan sweets. Her family and friends enjoy an ever-changing assortment of homemade almond macaroons, elaborate piped pastries, nut-covered crescents, honeyed whorls, miniature marzipan morsels, along with anise, cinnamon, and date delights.
“In Jewish-Moroccan homes, everything revolves around food,” she told me. “Everything. And sfinj are everyone’s favorite, hands down.”
Sfinj are not just reserved for the Festival of Lights either. Jaqueline prepares them year-round, for Brit Milah, B’nai Mitvzah, Moroccan pre-nuptial henna rituals, weddings, Mimouna festivities, even post-nuptial breakfasts — and anytime in between.
By the time I reached my destination, I too was inspired. With Jaqueline’s recipe in hand, by tonight, I’ll be enjoying sfinj by Hanukkah candlelight.
Jaqueline’s Sfinj
1-1/2 envelopes “fast action” dried yeast
2 Tbs. sugar
4-5 cups all-purpose flour
1 Tbs. salt
3–3-1/2 cups water
Oil for frying
Granulated sugar, maple syrup, or honey (optional)
Combine yeast, sugar, and flour in a large bowl. Mix well. Gradually add just enough water to make a soft dough that is easily gathered into a ball. Knead the dough for about 15 minutes, stopping while it is still sticky to the touch. Cover the bowl with a damp dish towel or plastic wrap. Place in a warm place for one to two hours, until dough doubles in size. Punch down. With water-moistened hands, form walnut-sized balls of dough.
Alternately, punch a hole in the center of each with your finger. Fold each ring of dough outward, thus enlarging the holes and creating decorative “crowns.”
In a frying pan, heat oil to very high heat, then lower it slightly. Deep-fry the sfinj on both sides in small batches. When golden brown, remove with a slotted spoon, and drain on absorbent paper. Serve immediately, either dusted with sugar, gilded with honey or maple syrup, or plain, as is.