The last week of school before winter break, and the students are vibrating with the particular frequency of teenagers who can smell freedom. I gave my juniors a final assignment: write about a meal that changed you. Not a meal that was good or expensive or complicated, but a meal that marked something — a beginning, an ending, a moment when the food mattered more than the food. The essays that came back were extraordinary. One boy wrote about eating a peanut butter sandwich with his father the night before his father deployed. A girl wrote about her quinceañera cake and the moment her mother started crying while cutting it. Elena wrote about her grandmother's arroz con pollo and the last time her grandmother remembered her name. I read them all and I cried at my desk after school, alone, in my classroom, which is where I allow myself to be moved by the people I teach, because the teaching requires composure and the crying requires privacy and the desk provides both.
Hanukkah starts Sunday. I have purchased eight boxes of candles, two bags of potatoes, and the specific brand of sour cream that Sylvia insisted upon, which is Breakstone's, because Sylvia had a relationship with Breakstone's that bordered on the devotional. The menorah is on the dining room table — the same menorah we've used for thirty-seven years, brass, purchased at a Judaica shop in Manhattan that no longer exists. Time is a collector of things I love. It takes the shops and the people and the neighborhoods and leaves me with the objects, and the objects must stand in for everything they represent, which is too much weight for a brass menorah but the menorah does not complain.
I cleaned the house for Hanukkah, which is not required — Hanukkah is not Passover, there is no ritual cleaning — but which I do anyway because the house should be ready for celebration the way a stage should be set for a performance: everything in its place, everything clean, everything saying: something is about to happen here. Something good. Come in. Sit down. There will be latkes.
When I think about what it means to prepare a table for celebration — the cleaning, the setting, the deliberate act of saying something good is about to happen here — I think about dishes that carry weight without effort, the kind you assemble the night before so that when the candles are lit and the people arrive, you are already present rather than still cooking. This Reuben Strata is exactly that: all the warmth of the Jewish deli tradition Sylvia loved, layered and waiting, requiring nothing from you in the ceremonial moment except to pull it from the oven and call everyone in.
Reuben Strata
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes (plus 1 hour resting) | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 8 slices seeded rye bread, cut into 1-inch cubes
- 3/4 lb deli corned beef, roughly chopped
- 2 cups shredded Swiss cheese, divided
- 1 can (14 oz) sauerkraut, well drained and squeezed dry
- 6 large eggs
- 2 cups whole milk
- 3 tablespoons Thousand Island dressing, plus more for serving
- 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
- 1/2 teaspoon caraway seeds
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
- Butter or nonstick spray for greasing
Instructions
- Prepare the baking dish. Grease a 9x13-inch baking dish with butter or nonstick spray. Spread half the bread cubes in an even layer across the bottom.
- Layer the filling. Distribute the corned beef evenly over the bread cubes. Spread the drained sauerkraut over the corned beef, then scatter 1 1/2 cups of the shredded Swiss cheese on top. Cover with the remaining bread cubes.
- Make the custard. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, Thousand Island dressing, Dijon mustard, caraway seeds, salt, and pepper until fully combined and smooth.
- Soak and rest. Pour the custard evenly over the layered strata, pressing gently with a spatula so all the bread absorbs the liquid. Scatter the remaining 1/2 cup Swiss cheese over the top. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or overnight for best results.
- Bake. When ready to bake, remove the strata from the refrigerator and let it sit at room temperature for 20 minutes. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Bake uncovered for 45—50 minutes, until the custard is set in the center, the top is golden, and the cheese is bubbling.
- Rest and serve. Let the strata rest for 10 minutes before slicing. Serve warm with additional Thousand Island dressing on the side.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 415 | Protein: 27g | Fat: 23g | Carbs: 26g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 1,020mg