← Back to Blog

Charoset — The Recipe I Make When Something Big Is Coming

New Year's 2027. Wait — this is late December 2026. The baby is due in late January. Megan is huge and uncomfortable and beautiful and she stands at the kitchen window looking at the snow and she says, "Any day now." The doctors say mid-January. Megan says, "He'll come when he's ready." She's right. He'll come when he's ready. Like sour beer. Like pierogi dough. Like everything worth waiting for.

We stayed home for New Year's Eve. Champagne (for me), sparkling cider (for Megan), the cheese board, the kitchen, the couch. At midnight I kissed her and said, "Next year there'll be three of us at midnight." She said, "He'll be asleep." I said, "We'll all be asleep by 9:30." She said, "That's parenthood." We're ready for parenthood. We're ready for 9:30 bedtimes and 3 AM feedings and the chaos of a small human in our lives. We're ready because we've been building toward this since the nachos. Since the fork. Since "nobody asked you."

The nursery is done. Yellow walls. The old crib. A changing table that Tom built from scratch in his garage. A rocking chair that Linda found at an antique store. A mobile with stars and moons that Megan hung herself, standing on a step stool at eight-and-a-half months pregnant while I stood behind her having a heart attack. The room is small and warm and waiting. It's the most beautiful room in the house because it's full of love and empty of a person. In a few weeks, the person will arrive.

Made Babcia's mushroom soup. Not for any holiday. Just because. Because the baby is almost here. Because the world is about to change. Because mushroom soup is the meal I make when something big is coming and I need to anchor myself to the stove and stir and breathe and be present in the moment before everything shifts.

I know Babcia’s mushroom soup is the meal I called out in the story — but what I kept coming back to while I stirred was something older, something I first learned to make alongside her years before the mushrooms: her Charoset, a sweet, spiced mixture of apples and walnuts and wine that she said you make “when you need to remember where you come from before you go somewhere new.” That felt exactly right on the last quiet night before the world became three. Megan sat at the kitchen table and watched me chop the apples, and neither of us needed to say anything at all.

Charoset

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes (plus 1 hour chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 3 medium apples (Fuji or Honeycrisp), peeled, cored, and finely diced
  • 1 cup walnuts, finely chopped
  • 1/4 cup sweet red wine (such as a Concord grape wine or port)
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
  • 1 tablespoon honey
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
  • Pinch of kosher salt

Instructions

  1. Prepare the apples. Peel, core, and finely dice all three apples into small, roughly uniform pieces — about 1/4-inch cubes. The smaller the chop, the better the mixture holds together.
  2. Chop the walnuts. Finely chop the walnuts by hand or pulse briefly in a food processor. You want texture, not a paste — stop before they become too fine.
  3. Combine. In a medium bowl, stir together the diced apples, chopped walnuts, sweet red wine, cinnamon, honey, ginger, and salt until everything is evenly coated.
  4. Taste and adjust. Add a touch more cinnamon or honey depending on the sweetness of your apples. The mixture should taste warm, fruity, and gently spiced.
  5. Chill. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving. The flavors deepen as the mixture rests. It keeps well for up to 3 days.
  6. Serve. Spoon onto a small plate or into a bowl as a spread alongside crackers, matzo, or simply eaten by the spoonful at a quiet kitchen counter while the snow falls outside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 130 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 20mg

Jake Kowalski
About the cook who shared this
Jake Kowalski
Week 507 of Jake’s 30-year story · Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Jake is a twenty-nine-year-old brewery worker, newlywed, and proud Polish-American from Milwaukee's Bay View neighborhood. He didn't start cooking until his grandmother Babcia Helen passed away and left behind a stack of grease-stained recipe cards. Now he makes pierogi from scratch, smokes meats on a balcony smoker his landlord pretends not to notice, and writes for guys who want to cook good food but don't know a roux from a rub.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?