Cherry Macaroons

Passover is next week. The fourth without Marvin at the table. I have stopped counting the ordinal — fourth, fifth, sixth — because the counting implies that each one is different, and they are not different, they are the same: the table set, the photo in Marvin's place, the food prepared, the story told, the empty chair that is not empty because it is full of forty years of Marvin sitting in it. The sameness is not stagnation. The sameness is ritual. The ritual is the comfort. The comfort is the food.

Sophie is making the matzo balls this year — her second year, her confidence growing, the spheres getting rounder, the texture staying fluffy. She stands at the counter where I stood where Sylvia stood, and the standing is the chain, and the chain is the standing, and the recipe is the same recipe that a woman made in a kitchen that doesn't exist anymore in a country that doesn't exist anymore, and the recipe survived, and the standing survived, and Sophie is standing, and the matzo balls are fluffy.

I made the brisket. The Passover brisket. The brisket that has been made for forty-three Passovers in this kitchen, the brisket that is the signature dish of the Feldman Passover, the brisket that is in the book (Chapter 3: "The Brisket That Fed Sixty People at Irving's Shiva"), the brisket that is the chain in its most concentrated form: six hours at low heat, the recipe unchanged, the love unchanged, the chain unbroken. The brisket is ready. The table is set. The story will be told. We were slaves. We were freed. We eat the brisket. We remember.

After the brisket is sliced and the matzo ball soup has warmed everyone from the inside, after the Haggadah is read and the four questions are asked and the door is opened for Elijah, there is always this — the cherry macaroon, sitting on the dessert plate, flourless and bright and exactly right for a table that cannot use leavened flour and does not need to. Marvin always took three. I always pretended not to notice. This year Sophie plated them, and I pretended not to notice that either.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 24 macaroons

Ingredients

2 2/3 cups sweetened shredded coconut
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup all-purpose flour (or matzo cake meal for strictly kosher for Passover)
1/4 teaspoon salt
4 large egg whites
1 teaspoon almond extract
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup maraschino cherries, drained and roughly chopped
24 whole maraschino cherries, drained and patted dry, for topping

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat oven to 325°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and lightly grease the parchment.
Mix dry ingredients. In a large bowl, stir together the coconut, sugar, flour (or matzo cake meal), and salt until evenly combined.
Add wet ingredients. Add the egg whites, almond extract, and vanilla extract to the coconut mixture. Stir well until everything is thoroughly moistened and holds together when pressed.
Fold in cherries. Gently fold in the chopped maraschino cherries, distributing them evenly without over-mixing.
Portion the macaroons. Using a rounded tablespoon or small cookie scoop, drop mounds of the mixture onto the prepared baking sheets, spacing them about 2 inches apart. Press each mound gently to compact it, then press one whole cherry into the top of each.
Bake. Bake for 18 to 20 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through, until the macaroons are set and the edges and tips are lightly golden. The centers will look just slightly underdone — that is correct.
Cool. Allow macaroons to cool on the baking sheets for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. They firm up as they cool. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 4 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cherry Macaroons — The Sweet That Closes Every Feldman Passover