Daf Ditty Beitzah 33: Goose Gizzard and Giblets

When Hanukkah fell on the Sabbath, Jewish families of means would host a feast
with roast goose, latkes fried in its schmaltz and most likely pickled vegetables.
‘The smell of smoking goose fat became the traditional scent’ of Hanukkah

Michael Wex ‘Rhapsody in Schmaltz.’1

1
https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250071514
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Rava taught: A woman may not enter a storehouse of wood in order to take from them a
firebrand, a partly burnt piece of wood used for turning over the wood of the bonfire, because this
piece of wood was not made into a vessel the day before and it is therefore muktze. And a
firebrand that broke may not be kindled on a Festival, for one may kindle fire with vessels
but one may not kindle fire with shards of vessels, and this firebrand was considered a vessel
before it broke.

The Gemara asks: Is that to say that in this case Rava holds in accordance with the opinion of
Rabbi Yehuda, who is of the opinion that there is a prohibition of muktze? But didn’t Rava say
to his attendant: Roast a duck for me, and throw its innards to the cat? According to Rabbi
Yehuda, it is prohibited to give the innards to animals, as they were not prepared for this purpose
the day before. The Gemara answers: There, since the innards become rancid when they were
left, from yesterday, the Festival eve, his mind was on them. At that point in time, he already
intended to give them to the cats in his house.
2
Jastrow

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MISHNA: Rabbi Eliezer says: On a Festival, a person may remove a sliver from a pile of straw
or from similar material that is before him, in order to clean with it between his teeth. And he
may collect straw from a courtyard and kindle it, for anything in a courtyard is considered
prepared for all purposes. The Rabbis say: He may collect these materials only from things
placed before him in his house, as they are certainly prepared for all uses, and kindle them. With
regard to objects lying in his courtyard, however, as their collection takes great effort, he certainly
did not have them in mind the day before, and they are therefore muktze.

The mishna states a different halakha: One may not produce fire, neither from wood, by rubbing
one piece against another; nor from stones knocked against each other; nor from hot dirt; nor
from tiles struck against each other; nor from water placed in round, glass vessels, which
produces fire by focusing the rays of the sun. And similarly, one may not whiten tiles with a
burning-hot heat in order to roast upon them afterward.

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GEMARA: The Gemara suggests: Let us say that we learned the unattributed mishna not in
accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Shimon. As we learned in a mishna (Shabbat 156b) that
Rabbi Shimon says: One may cut up gourds for an animal on Shabbat so that it can eat them
more easily, and similarly, one may cut up an unslaughtered animal carcass for dogs. Rabbi
Yehuda says: If it was not an animal carcass already on the eve of Shabbat, but rather it died
on Shabbat itself, it is prohibited. Since Rabbi Yehuda distinguishes between an animal that died
on Shabbat and one that died before Shabbat, it would appear that Rabbi Shimon holds that one
may move an animal carcass and feed it to dogs even if it died on Shabbat. Accordingly, the mishna
that prohibits moving an animal that died on a Festival seems to conflict with Rabbi Shimon’s
opinion.

The Gemara rejects this argument: The mishna can be understood even if you say that it is in
accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Shimon, as Rabbi Shimon nevertheless concedes in the
case of animals that were entirely healthy at twilight but died on the Festival that they are
prohibited. Since they were healthy at twilight, the owner had no intention at that point in time of
feeding them to dogs, and they are therefore prohibited as muktze. The baraita, on the other hand,
is referring to an animal that had been sick on the previous day; since the owner knew that it was
close to death, he had in mind to feed it to his dogs after it died.

The Gemara asks: This works out well according to the opinion of Mar bar Ameimar in the
name of Rava, who said that Rabbi Shimon concedes in the case of animals that died on the
Festival without having been mortally sick the day before that they are prohibited on the Festival
due to muktze; according to this opinion, it is well. However, according to the opinion of Mar,
son of Rav Yosef, in the name of Rava, who said that Rabbi Shimon was in disagreement even
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in the case of animals that died suddenly, and he holds that they are permitted, what is there
to say? The unattributed mishna appears to contradict this opinion.

The Gemara answers: Ze’iri explained it as follows: The mishna is referring to a sacred animal
that died; since it is sacred property, one may not derive benefit from it, and therefore one may not
give it to dogs. The Gemara comments: The language of the mishna is also precise according to
this interpretation, as it teaches: They asked Rabbi Tarfon about it and about ḥalla that became
ritually impure, from which it may be inferred: Just as ḥalla is sacred, so too, the animal
mentioned here is one that was sacred, rather than a non-sacred animal.

The Gemara asks: Rather, according to this explanation, the reason that the animal may not be
moved is that the animal was sacred; but if it was a non-sacred animal that died, it would be
permitted to move it. If so, this works out well according to the opinion of Mar, son of Rav
Yosef, in the name of Rava, who said that Rabbi Shimon was in disagreement even in the case
of animals that died, and he holds that they are permitted; according to this opinion, it is well,
as one can say that the mishna, which indicates that one may move an animal that died on a
Festival, is in accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Shimon. However, according to the opinion
of Mar bar Ameimar in the name of Rava, who said that Rabbi Shimon concedes in the case
of animals that died that they are prohibited, what is there to say? The mishna is in accordance
with neither Rabbi Shimon nor Rabbi Yehuda.

The Gemara answers: With what are we dealing here? It is with a case where the animal was in
danger of dying the day before, and the owner had in mind to feed it to his dogs after it died, and
all agree with regard to the ruling. Therefore, according to Rabbi Shimon, an allowance is granted
to move the animal if it was a non-sacred animal and it had been in danger prior to the Festival;
and if the animal was sacred, even he agrees that it is prohibited, as it may not be fed to dogs.

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Summary

Introduction2

This mishnah deals with what may be done with a beast (a cow, sheep, goat or bull) that has died
on Yom Tov.

If a beast died [on Yom Tov] it may not be moved from its place.

Since the beast died and was not slaughtered, it cannot be eaten. Since it cannot be eaten there is
nothing that one may do with it on Yom Tov. Hence, it is muktzeh. All that he can do is leave it
in its place and then when Yom Tov is over he can cut it up, use its hide and feed dogs with its
meat.

And it happened that they once asked Rabbi Tarfon concerning this and concerning hallah
that had become defiled. He went into the bet midrash and inquired, and they answered him:
they may not be moved from their place.

The mishnah now relates that this halakhah was asked of Rabbi Tarfon and he didn’t know the
answer until he went and asked the question in the study house, the bet midrash. He also was asked
about hallah, the part of the dough that is given to the priest, that had become impure on Yom Tov.
Impure hallah, like an animal that died without being slaughtered, cannot be eaten and hence it is
also muktzeh on Yom Tov. The answer therefore to both questions was that both are muktzeh and
that neither can be moved until Yom Tov is over.

We learn more Festival-specific halachot.3 It is emphasized over and over that we must distinguish
Festivals from other days. Whether it is how we lead an animal with a stick or what piece of
wood/bamboo we choose to turn over the fire, our actions must be different from those on a
weekday. As an aside, we learn about food for animals. An item that is muktze cannot be used
on a Festival. If we roast a duck, we cannot give its innards to our house cat unless we had thought
of this in advance of the chag. The aside: people kept house pets! And cats were kept in the house!

A new Mishna offers two new ideas. First, Rabbi Eliezer teaches that we can find a sliver from
our own pile of straw to clean between our teeth. We also can use our own straw to kindle a fire,
for anything in our courtyard is considered to be prepared. The rabbis counter: only those things
directly in front of a person can be used on a Festival. Other things, like those in a courtyard, are
too numerous to have been thought of in advance and thus they are muktze. Second: we learn

2
https://www.sefaria.org/Beitzah.27b.4?lang=bi&p2=Mishnah_Beitzah.3.5&lang2=bi&w2=English%20Explanation%20of%20
Mishnah&lang3=en
3
http://dafyomibeginner.blogspot.com/2014/05/
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that we cannot produce fire. Not from wood, nor stones, nor tiles, nor water and glass. Also we
cannot heat tiles until they are white and then use the tiles as roasting tools.

We learn that the wood of a spice tree might be cut down and then crushed in order to offer the
fragrance to an ill person. The rabbis debate whether it is permitted to cut the branch, to crush the
wood, to use the fragrance. They argue over the punishment for transgressions in these categories
and when the punishments might apply.

The rabbis discuss breaking a barrel. It seems that we must be vigilant about the creation of
vessels, which could happen in the process of breaking (or reattaching) a barrel. Here we learn
again about the importance of intention: as long as we do not intend to create a vessel, we are
permitted to break things. So much of Jewish thought revolves around action rather than intention;
here we learn that the intention (or lack thereof) is key. Masechet Beitza seems to be filled with
references to intention.

The Gemara wonders how we are expected to roast if we cannot whiten tiles with heat. They will
continue this questioning into tomorrow's daf. What we learn from this, already, is that our
ancestors would use heated tiles to roast things like duck. I am trying to picture how this might
work, but I'm not clear on where the tiles would be placed in relation to the meat. Perhaps I will
learn more about this tomorrow.

THE USE OF TWIGS ON YOM TOV FOR PURPOSES OTHER

Rav Mordechai Kornfeld writes:4

Our Daf records a dispute with regard to whether wet twigs are Muktzah on Yom Tov.

RASHI explains that the opinion that wet twigs are Muktzah is based on the principle that "Lo
Nitnu Etzim Ela l'Hasakah" -- the exclusive purpose of wood on Yom Tov is fuel for a fire. A wet
twig cannot be used as fuel for a fire is Muktzah, and thus it is Muktzah because it has no use at
all now. The other opinion maintains that a wet twig still may be used for a very large fire, and
therefore it is not Muktzah.

The Gemara implies that a twig fit for fuel may be moved for other purposes. Since it is fit for a
fire, it may be used for any purpose. RASHI (DH b'Retiva, and as quoted by TOSFOS
DH v'Hilchasa) says that this is true according to the opinion that "Lo Nitnu Etzim Ela
l'Hasakah." That principle, however, states that twigs may be used only for a fire. Why is one
permitted to use the twigs for other purposes?

4
https://dafyomi.co.il/beitzah/insites/bt-dt-033.htm
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RASHI does not mean that this opinion maintains "Lo Nitnu Etzim Ela l'Hasakah" in the literal
sense. Rather, Rashi means that according to this opinion, since the main purpose of wood is for a
fire, if it is not fit for its main purpose a person does not have in mind before Yom Tov to use it
on Yom Tov. Thus, it is Muktzah and may not be used for any purpose. If it is fit for its main
purpose, then it may be used for any purpose.

GOOSE GIZZARDS
Rava rules that one may not use a piece of wood from a broken utensil as firewood on Yom Tov
since the wood was not prepared for such use before Yom Tov. The Gemara infers from here that
Rava must follow the view of Rebbi Yehudah, who prohibits objects like this as Muktzah on Yom
Tov.

The Gemara questions this assumption from another statement of Rava. The Gemara relates that
on Yom Tov, Rava told his servant to roast a goose and throw the intestines to a cat. The Gemara
understands from this statement that Rava follows the view of Rebbi Shimon, who argues with
Rebbi Yehudah and permits one to move an object on Yom Tov for the sake of animals, even
though the object was designated for human use and not for animals before Yom Tov.

Rashi (DH Kivan d'Mesrechi) writes that the goose intestines were still fit for human consumption
on Yom Tov.

How does Rava's ruling in that case imply that he follows the view of Rebbi Shimon? Perhaps
Rava agrees with Rebbi Yehudah, who prohibits one from giving to animals an object designated
for man only when the object is no longer fit to be used by man. (When the object is no longer fit
for its original purpose of serving as food for man, it is considered Nolad and is Muktzah.) If,
however, the object still can be used by a person (that is, it is fit for its designated use), even Rebbi
Yehudah agrees that it is not Muktzah and it may be given to animals. Why, then, does the Gemara
assert that Rava's ruling in the case of the goose intestines demonstrates that he rules like Rebbi
Shimon? The goose intestines were still fit for human consumption!

The type of Muktzah which the Gemara here discusses is commonly referred to as "Muchan
l'Adam Eino Muchan l'Behemah." This expression includes two distinct types of Muktzah: First,
when the laws of Shabbos or Yom Tov prevent man from using an object (for example, on Shabbos
a live animal is not fit for human use since the slaughter of an animal is forbidden on Shabbos),
that object is considered Muktzah and may not be used for any purpose. Even though live animals
are sometimes fed to dogs, since this animal is not fit for man at present it is Muktzah (even
according to Rebbi Shimon) and may not be fed to dogs. (This is a form of Muktzah Machmas
Isur.)

Second, when something happens to an object on Shabbos that renders it unfit for man, it may not
be used for any purpose, not even as food for dogs (it is considered a form of Nolad). For example,
if an animal was alive before Yom Tov (and was fit for man since he could slaughter and eat it on
Yom Tov) and then it died on Yom Tov and became unfit for man, it remains Muktzah and may
not be fed to dogs.

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In Rava's case, the intestines of the goose fell into neither category. No law of Yom Tov prevents
the intestines from being used by man, and nothing happened to the intestines to render them unfit
for human use.

(a) RASHI (here and in Shabbos 142b) explains that the reason why goose intestines are not fit
for man is not because any change occurred to them, but simply because it is not the normal
manner to eat goose intestines on Yom Tov. Therefore, it is considered as though the laws of Yom
Tov prohibit this item from human use (the first category of "Muchan l'Adam Eino Muchan
l'Behemah" mentioned above), and that is why the intestines may not be given to animals according
to Rebbi Yehudah.

(b) TOSFOS (here, DH v'Shadi, and in Shabbos 29a, DH Achlan) challenges Rashi's explanation
from the Gemara in Shabbos (128a) which states that one is permitted to move raw meat on
Shabbos because it is possible for people to eat the meat in such a state. It certainly is not the
accepted practice to eat raw meat on Shabbos, and yet that fact does not render the meat Muktzah.
Tosfos therefore explains that goose intestines are edible as soon as the goose is slaughtered
(before Yom Tov); however, shortly afterwards (on Yom Tov) the intestines spoil and become
inedible. Since the intestines are no longer fit for man, they become Muktzah according to Rebbi
Yehudah. (Tosfos understands that they fall into the second category of Muktzah mentioned above,
Muktzah prohibited because of Nolad.)

Perhaps Rashi maintains that goose intestines are not comparable to raw meat for the following
reason. Rava slaughtered the goose because he intended to eat its meat, and the intestines are
secondary to the meat. Relative to the meat, the intestines are not fit for use on Yom Tov. Raw
meat, in contrast, is not secondary to anything else, and therefore it is not Muktzah.

Steinzaltz (OBM) writes:5

The last several pages of Gemara have been dealing with preparing fuels used for burning on Yom
Tov. As we have noted in our studies, burning fuel is permitted, as it is a prerequisite for cooking,
which is permitted on Yom Tov. Nevertheless, according to the Mishnah on our daf, we are only
allowed to add fuel to an existing fire or flame, but not to light a new fire.

The Mishnah teaches that a fire cannot be “brought out” (that is to say, lit) from wood, stones, dirt,
tiles or water. Starting a fire with wood, stones and tiles would all be based on the same basic
principles – the creation of heat or sparks by means of friction in the case of wood, or banging
stones or tiles against one another (as is still done today in the case of modern cigarette lighters,
for example).

Creating fire out of water means – as Rashi explains – using a water-filled glass instrument that
works as a magnifying glass to create great heat by concentrating the sun’s rays on a particular
spot.

5
https://dafyomi.co.il/beitzah/insites/bt-dt-033.htm
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There are a variety of explanations regarding how one can start a fire out of dirt. They include the
possibility of pouring water on natural lime deposits in order to create a chemical reaction that
produces heat, and using the heat created by decomposing organic matter.

The Gemara explains that starting a fire is forbidden on Yom Tov because it is molid -a creative
activity. The rishonim disagree as to the level of severity of such an activity. The R”iaz, for
example, says that it is not truly an act of creation, but since something new is now here, it is
forbidden by the Sages. The Rambam‘s approach is to say that this is forbidden only because it
could have been done before Yom Tov began.

Pot Props
Elliot Goldberg writes:6

You’re walking down a hallway and encounter a door with the following sign: “Private No Visitors
Allowed.” Do you enter the room?

Well, it depends if you read the text this way: “Private! No Visitors Allowed.” Or this way:
“Private? No! Visitors Allowed.”

If you’re familiar with signs, you probably read it the first way. If you’re familiar with Talmud,
you might think hard about the validity of the second, even if you choose to go with the first in the
end.

Like our sign, the Mishnah originally lacked punctuation and vowels, and is thus open to a range
of possible readings. And while the grammatical marks that appear in modern printed editions can
often represent the consensus about how the text is meant to be read, they are a form of
interpretation in their own right.

How so? Let’s take a look at an example from today’s daf, where a mishnah teaches:

One may not prop a pot (that does not stand straight) with a piece of wood (in order to prevent
it from falling).

The mishnah rules out using a piece of wood to prop up a pot on a festival. Wood, as we have seen,
is muktzeh, since it is used for activities prohibited on Shabbat and festivals, and therefore cannot
be used to prop up a pot — or moved at all.

The mishnah continues:

And similarly, with a door.

Now we face an interpretive dilemma. Should we read that line as “similarly, we do not use a door
to prop up a pot”? Or should it read “similarly, we do not use wood to prop open a door”?

6
Myjewishlearing.com
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By using the preposition “with” (the letter bet in Hebrew) twice, the mishnah sets up “wood” to
be parallel with “door,” supporting the first reading. But is it possible to prop a pot by means of a
door? It wouldn’t seem so.

The Gemara shares this objection. Given that talmudic-era pots were mainly pottery, they could
easily be broken by a door. Instead, the Gemara suggests replacing the preposition “with” with the
article “the” (the letter heh). Doing so renders the text in the second manner described above, as
barring using wood to prop open a door too.

As support for this change, the Gemara cites a beraita (early teaching) that uses similar language:

The sages taught: One may not prop a pot with a piece of wood, and similarly a door, as wood
is to be used only for kindling. With regard to any use other than kindling, wood is considered
muktzeh. And Rabbi Shimon, who does not accept the prohibition of muktzeh, permits it.

In the beraita, not only does the language point to the second explanation, but so does the context,
which makes clear that we are talking about the permissibility of using wood for non-kindling
purposes, like propping up pots or doors.

While ultimately the Gemara concludes that this reading of the mishnah is the correct
one, Rashi says the language of the mishnah actually means that we should not prop up a pot with
a door, though he notes that the Gemara will object to this understanding. In contrast, most
commentators explain the mishnah to say what the Gemara eventually says it means — not what
it seems to be saying in its original form.

So what did the mishnah originally mean to say? It’s an interesting question, but not necessarily
the most relevant one for Talmud study, which is more concerned with how the mishnah was
interpreted over the centuries.

Rabbi Johnny Solomon writes:7

Our daf (Beitzah 33b) makes reference to woods with a fragrance, noting that ‘we may handle
fragrant woods [on Shabbat] to smell them’. And while it is true that some woods have a
fragrance, a further truth is that the ‫ – עץ חיים‬the tree of life – of Torah also has a fragrance.

Significantly, the Gemara (Shabbat 88b) remarks that when each of the Ten Commandments was
spoken, the whole world filled with fragrance. What this means, if taken literally, is that aside from
the Jewish people hearing the decalogue, they actually smelt it.

Clearly it is difficult to fathom what our Rabbis meant by this phrase. Still, I believe that by using
this language, they are teaching us something very deep - which is that our experience of Torah
needs to go beyond what we see, and within what we can smell.

7
www.rabbijohnnysolomon.com
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As I previously explained8 ‘many people think that a Jew is defined by how they look. But, as the
Maharal explains (Chiddushei Aggadot on Sanhedrin 93b), while it is possible to wear the right
garb, and say the right things to try and give off the right image (as Yaakov did to his father
Yitzchak), the ultimate quality of a Jew is not measured by their physical clothes. Instead, as the
prophet Yeshayahu (11:3) teaches in the words: ‫ֲה ִריחוֹ ְבּ ִי ְרַאת ה' ְול ֹא ְלַמ ְרֵאה ֵﬠיָניו ִיְשׁפּוֹט ְול ֹא ְלִמְשַׁמע ָאְזָניו‬
‫‘ – יוִֹכיַח‬And his scent shall be in the fear of the Lord; he shall not judge by what his eyes see,
nor decide by what his ears hear’’.

Similarly, as the Shach commentary on Yoreh Deah 89 notes, there are particular behaviors which
should be adopted by those with a ‫ – ריח תורה‬a scent of Torah. In doing so, he was making the point
that while a Jew can simply act in accordance with the laws of the Torah, there is a richer and more
spiritually inclined approach that we can adopt to the mitzvot where we live spiritually fragrant
lives and where we connect with Torah not only on an intellectual level, but also on a spiritual
level too.

Returning to Beitzah 33b and applying the concept of ‫ ריח תורה‬to the words in our daf, it should be
clear that when we ‘handle’ (i.e. study and live in accordance with) Torah, we should do so not
only to have an appearance of being connected to Torah, but also so that the fragrance of Torah
rubs off on us.

HALACHA
Rav Asher Meir writes:9

(1) FORBIDDEN LABOR ON YOM TOV:

The Torah forbids labor on Yom Tov as it does on Shabbat. However, an exception is made

for "whatever is eaten for every spirit" (Shemot 12:16). The word "spirit" refers to an

individual human being, and the verse permits us to prepare and cook food on Yom Tov, even

when such preparation is forbidden on Shabbat. But the expression "food for the spirit" also

hints at the fact that when we eat on Yom Tov we are nourishing our spirits and not only our

bodies.

This halakhic difference reflects a fundamental conceptual difference between Shabbat and

Yom Tov. On Shabbat, rest is an end in itself; on Yom Tov, it is a means to an end.

8
in my commentary to Yoma 14 (see https://rabbijohnnysolomon.com/yoma-14/)
9
https://haretzion.linnovate.co.il/en/halakha/studies-halakha/philosophy-halakha/laws-yom-tov
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 We first encounter Shabbat as a commemoration of the Creation (Shemot 20:9-10). By

resting on Shabbat, we recall that God rested from creation on the seventh day. Inextricably bound

with this commemoration of the past is the anticipation of the future: since the world is finite and

limited, created in a limited period, the work of human repair is limited and will one day be

completed, at the time of the final redemption. So our rest testifies to the fact that our own efforts

will cease permanently one day, as they cease temporarily every Shabbat day.

The Torah does not connect Yom Tov to the Creation but rather designates it as a

commemoration of the Exodus from Egypt (Shemot 12, Vayikra 23:43, Devarim 16:12). In order

to commemorate the Exodus, in which we were freed from crushing bondage to occupy ourselves

with God's service, on Yom Tov we rest from creative labor in order to occupy ourselves with

honoring the holiday. This rest is a means to an end. Only by refraining from everyday activities

do we have sufficient time and a proper frame of mind to celebrate.

(Shabbat is also considered a commemoration of the Exodus - Devarim 5:14-15. So this

instrumental aspect of rest is present on Shabbat also. But the rest as an end in itself is unique to

Shabbat.)

On Shabbat, rest is an objective. This kind of rest does not recognize any exceptions, since

any kind of labor contradicts the character of the day as one of desisting from labor per se. But on

Yom Tov, refraining from labor frees us to honor the day. But labor that contributes to the honor

of the day, such as cooking a festive meal, is permissible and appropriate.

LABORS PERMITTED FOR ANY NEED:

In general, the usually forbidden labors are permissible only for food preparation, or for other

bodily needs that resemble the need to eat. The two exceptions: transferring fire and carrying are

permitted even if they are not needed for food.

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 One reason mentioned for these exceptions is that it is very common for these two activities

to contribute to our Yom Tov joy even when food preparation is not involved. Warmth and light

always create a joyous atmosphere, and being able to carry anything we need encourages us to

make large gatherings. But other labors are seldom needed for comfort, except if they are needed

for preparing food, which is permissible in any case. (Bach OC 495.)

We could add that igniting a flame from an existing fire and carrying outside the eiruv are

labors that are done almost passively, since it is the nature of fire to spread, and since objects borne

in pockets and so on are carried more by default than by intent. Even on Shabbat these labors are

considered somewhat "weaker" than the others (fire: Shabbat 70a; carrying: Tosafot Shabbat 2a),

and it is logical that these should be the ones that are more lenient on Yom Tov.

(11) CHALLA ON YOM TOV, AND THE NATURE OF RABBINICAL

COMMANDMENTS:

We learned in chapter 35 that if we make a large quantity of bread, it is necessary to separate out

"challa" - the "first" of the bread, which is reserved for the "first" of the Jewish people, the

Kohen. When making bread on Yom Tov we may take challa as well.

However, if the bread was made before Yom Tov, the halakha differs between the land of

Israel and abroad. Outside of Israel, we may leave a small portion aside and designate it as challa

after the holiday. But in Israel, we are unable to separate challa at all. Taking challa repairs the

loaf, and such a "repair" is forbidden on Yom Tov. (As we explain in the next section, even

preparing food is forbidden on Yom Tov when it could have been done beforehand.) Here is one

way of understanding this distinction:

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 Many halakhic authorities have suggested that there is a fundamental difference between

Torah commandments and Rabbinical ones. While the Torah tells us what things are (cheftza),

the Rabbis usually tell us only what to do (gavra).

In Israel, separating challa is a Torah obligation. Dough that has not had challa taken is

tevel, a forbidden object. We may not repair the dough on Yom Tov if we had the chance

beforehand, and so we may not eat it.

Outside of Israel, challa is a Rabbinical prohibition. The Rabbis didn't designate the dough

as a forbidden substance, they merely obligated us to perform the act of taking challa. This can be

done after Yom Tov, and in the meantime it is permissible to eat the bread.

(31) IGNITING A NEW FIRE ON YOM TOV:

We have already mentioned that lighting a new fire on Yom Tov is forbidden. This is surprising,

since on Shabbat there is no difference between starting a fire (from a match, spark, etc.) and

transferring fire (lighting something from an existing flame). And in fact the reason given in the

Talmud for this prohibition is not because of forbidden labor (melacha) but rather because of

making a "new creation" (molid). "One may not extract fire from wood, from stones, from earth,

or from water" (Mishna Beitza 33a, Shulchan Arukh OC 502).

Many authorities connect this prohibition to a general principle: Even labors that are

permitted on Yom Tov - those related to preparing food - are forbidden if they could have been

done before the holiday.

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 This fits in with our original explanation of Yom Tov rest. Preparing food on Yom Tov

was permitted only to the extent that it contributes to holiday joy. But if we can do something

before the holiday, then putting it off until Yom Tov only detracts from our celebration.

(32) PLEASURES THAT ARE APPROPRIATE FOR EVERYBODY:

A Yom Tov pleasure is only considered "food for the spirit" if it is appropriate for any spirit

(shaveh lekol nefesh) - something that most people enjoy.

This points out another important difference between Shabbat and Yom Tov. Shabbat

includes a mitzva of "oneg Shabbat" - Sabbath delight. Yom Tov includes a mitzva of "simchat

ha-regel" - holiday rejoicing. There is an important difference between delight and joy, and many

halakhic distinctions are based on it.

Delight is exactly what the word implies: anything that a person delights in. But joy is an

atmosphere. The Shabbat meal is meant primarily for our enjoyment; the Yom Tov meal is to

honor the day.

A TESTIMONIAL DINNER

We can compare the Yom Tov meal to a testimonial dinner. Even though delicious food

is served at such a dinner, the object is not to have a party but to honor the guest. Even someone

who is not hungry eats at such an affair since the meal is not meant primarily to be enjoyed but

rather as a sign of the importance of the event. Yom Tov is like the "dinner" of the Holy One,

blessed be He.

Indeed, the Shulchan Arukh rules that even though it is a mitzva to have a Shabbat meal,

someone who actually enjoys fasting may do so. Yet he does not mention such a leniency

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regarding Yom Tov. (Shulchan Arukh OC 288:2; see the Darkhei Moshe.) Fasting may be

enjoyable, but it is not a way of honoring somebody.

By the same token, Yom Tov rejoicing focuses on those pleasures that are

universal. Having "prestigious" dishes is even more important than having tasty ones. Filet

mignon is served at a fancy dinner, even if most of the diners really prefer hamburger.

GIVING CHARITY

This metaphor also gives us insight into another difference between Shabbat and Yom

Tov. On Yom Tov, giving charity to the poor is not merely a good deed but rather an essential

part of the joy of the holiday, as we will learn in chapter 103. But this is not true of Shabbat (Zohar

Yitro, II:88b). Explaining this in the context of our metaphor, the organizers of a testimonial

dinner will be certain to invite the close friends of the honoree, even if they can't afford the

thousand dollar a plate donation - and every Jew is a beloved friend of God.

PRIVATE ENJOYMENTS

Here is another example. It is a mitzva for married couples to be together on

Shabbat (Shulchan Arukh OC 280). But this private delight does not contribute to the honor of

the day, and no such mitzva exists for Yom Tov. Indeed, in the time of the Temple the men were

commanded to visit Yerushalaim, but the women were not. And Yom Tov is set aside for visiting

one's Rebbe (Rosh Hashana 16b) - a mitzva that is often fulfilled by leaving one's family for the

holiday.

This fits in with what we said above that the "rest" of Yom Tov is a means to an end. Labor

is permitted on Yom Tov to the extent that it contributes to the honor of the day, and this is done

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through joy - things that are generally perceived as enjoyments. This limits the permission to those

enjoyments that are appropriate for every Jew.

(35) PREPARING FOOD FOR ANIMALS:

Animals do not partake of the holiday joy, and so one may not perform forbidden labors in order

to feed them. However, one is always obligated to take proper care of one's animals (Shulchan

Arukh OC 523), and indeed we should generally feed our animals even before we eat ourselves

(as we explained in chapter 42).

(36-37) COOKING FOR A NON-JEW:

Cooking for a non-Jew is forbidden on Yom Tov. One may also not invite a non-Jew for a meal

since one would be tempted to cook for the guest.

This fits in with the theme of Yom Tov mentioned at the beginning of this chapter. Shabbat

is a commemoration of the Creation, which is relevant to all mankind. But Yom Tov is a

commemoration of the Exodus, which was unique to the Jewish people. Thus, inviting a non-Jew

is appropriate on Shabbat, but out of place on Yom Tov.

CHAPTER 99 - MUKTZEH ON YOM TOV

According to many early authorities, some kinds of muktzeh - objects that are not prepared

for use before Yom Tov - are forbidden to move on Yom Tov even though they are permissible

on Shabbat. Our custom is to rule like those authorities who make no distinction between Shabbat

and Yom Tov; even so, Rav Ganzfried thought that the stringent opinion was important enough to

devote a special chapter to it.

In chapter 88, we explained that the laws of muktzeh, which allow us to move and use only

those items that were ready for use before Shabbat, serve to make Shabbat dependent on the days

of the week. In this way we strengthen the symbiotic connection between work and rest, giving

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and receiving, mundane and holy. For this purpose, a minimal amount of weekday preparation is

sufficient. Food that was prepared for sale can be eaten on Shabbat, since without the weekday

preparation it would not be fit to eat.

However, we explained in the last chapter that the guiding principle of Yom Tov

is honor. It is not enough that the weekdays prepare for Yom Tov; they must specifically honor

it. For this purpose, it is not enough to have food that was prepared for sale; instead, we would

require food that was specifically prepared for Yom Tov. This explains the opinion that is

especially stringent regarding muktzeh on Yom Tov.

Returning to our "testimonial dinner" metaphor, at such a dinner it would be quite tactless

to serve leftovers, no matter how delicious. We expect that a fuss be made to prepare food

especially for the occasion.

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 DIGESTIVE PHYSIOLOGY OF THE GOOSE10

It is the structure and function of the digestive system of the goose which allows it to consume and
digest large amounts of high-fibre feedstuffs and that sets it apart from other classes of poultry.
This ability to utilise high-fibre feedstuffs, when combined with its foraging and scavenging ability
and its aquatic nature, readily lends the goose to a number of sustainable agricultural systems.

At first glance, the digestive tract of the goose does not appear dissimilar to that of other poultry
species. Its esophagus is relatively long, with mucous glands to lubricate the passage of food and
extends into the spindle shaped crop that serves as a reservoir for food storage. The food passes
quickly into the proventriculus (stomach), the primary function of which is gastric secretion (acid
and pepsin). The food then moves to the gizzard the function of which is firstly mechanical
(grinding and crushing the food) and secondly to initiate protein digestion. The small intestine is
the principal site of digestion involving bile, and intestinal and pancreatic enzymes.
Microbiological fermentation of dietary fibre occurs in the caeca after which the digesta passes

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into the large intestine (there is also microbial digestion here) and then to the cloaca which is the
site for both urinary and feces excretion for all birds.

Rates of digestion of acid digestive fibre for the goose are from 15-30 percent depending on the
material. The digestive system of the goose is able to digest this high level of fibre primarily for
two reasons. The first is its large and muscular proventriculus and its extremely well-muscled
gizzard that can develop pressures of up to 275 mm Hg as opposed to values of 180 and 125 mm
Hg for the duck and the hen respectively. The action of these organs results in the release of cell
sap and the crushing of the cells so that they can be subject to further digestion. The second is the
microbial breakdown of fibre in the extremely well developed caeca and large intestine of the
goose. This efficiency in fibre utilization exists despite the fact that feedstuffs pass through the
digestive tract of the goose relatively rapidly.

Digestive tract of the geese

1. Esophagus
2. Crop
3. Proventriculus
4. Gizzard
5. Pancreas
6. Duodenum
7. Liver
8. Gallbladder
9. Ileum

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10. Caecum
11. Cloaca

What Are Giblets?

The Spruce Eats / Lindsay Kreighbaum

The word giblets (pronounced with a soft "g" as in the word "ginger") refers to the hearts, livers,
and gizzards of poultry, mainly chickens and turkeys. These items are often (but not always)
packaged up and included within the body cavity of a whole chicken or turkey, usually with the neck
and sometimes with the kidneys too. You can use them to flavor homemade stock or gravy.

What Are Giblets?

An interesting fact about that bag of giblets: The contents may not be from that particular chicken or
turkey unless you buy poultry direct from a farmer. And because so many home cooks don't know
how to handle them, a lot of factory-farmed chickens do not even include the giblets any longer.

In earlier times, in addition to necks, hearts, livers, (sometimes kidneys) and gizzards, the term
giblets also referred to such items as the feet, wing tips, heads, and even that floppy red crest on a

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rooster called the cockscomb. Today, there is a fringe notion that the word giblets only refers to
edible organs, relegating the unfortunate neck to the status of an interloper. And yet, there it is in that
little bag.

Wing tips (the pointy, flappy section of the wing) and chicken feet are excellent for making chicken
stock, and both are a delicacy in some Asian cuisines. As for the head and cockscomb, most likely
end up as ingredients in pet food with other chicken or turkey by-products.

A digestive organ, gizzards help grind up the food eaten by the animals who possess them (chickens,
turkeys, and ducks, plus other animals such as penguins and crocodiles). A chicken swallows tiny
pebbles and bits of grit that get stored in the gizzard; when food comes through, the muscular organ
squeezes and contracts, causing those stones to grind up the food.

Duck gizzards are classically used in making confit, although duck liver is not considered giblets
since it, like goose liver, is highly desirable for making foie gras or pate.

How to Cook Giblets

In classical cuisine, giblets would be cut up and simmered until tender, usually with potatoes and
onions as well as other items such as carrots, garlic, and bacon. Alternatively, they can be dusted in
flour, browned in butter, and simmered in wine before getting chopped up and used in a number of
sauces.

Turkey giblets à la Bourguignon is a classic preparation in which the giblets are simmered in red
wine along with onions and mushrooms. A common use for giblets today is in gravy, stuffing, or
even pasta sauce.

Giblets can also be battered and deep-fried, but of course, most people only have the giblets that
came in whatever bird they are preparing, which makes for a scant serving. You can always stockpile
them in the freezer until you have enough to make cooking them worth your while. Defrost them in
the fridge overnight.

Set the liver aside until the last 10 minutes of cooking, otherwise, its flavor can overpower a dish.
Better yet, dust the liver in flour, and pan-fry it in butter and garlic or grill it on a skewer.

As with all uncooked poultry products, use care when handling the raw giblets as they can be a cross-
contamination hazard. Be sure to cook the giblets or any dish containing them to 165 F.

What Do Giblets Taste Like?

Each piece in the giblets bag brings its own flavor to the table. The heart and gizzard taste more like
dark meat, with just a little bit of a tangy gaminess. The liver and kidneys usually have a slightly
metallic flavor. But it's the rich flavor they impart to gravy, stock, and dressing that makes them so
valuable.

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Giblets Recipes

Giblets may seem unusual or scary, but they're actually quite easy to prepare. For most uses, you'll
simply simmer them in water on the stove until they're cooked through before adding them to your
recipe. You can also roast them alongside the bird.

Where to Buy Giblets

You can make sure to buy a brand of whole turkey or chicken that includes the giblets (some
producers include this information on the packaging), or buy them separately at many grocery stores.
Look among the other offal offerings (offal refers to the organ meats) or ask the butcher for extras.

Storing Giblets

You can store giblets in your refrigerator in airtight packaging for one or two days. They can be
frozen at 0 F or below and stored indefinitely; for best results, though, use frozen giblets within a
few months. Thaw them in the refrigerator, in cold water, or in the microwave.

DUCK GIZZARDS CONFIT

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Hank Shaw WRITES:12

Duck gizzards confit has become one of my go-to recipes every winter for more than a decade
now. It is my favorite gizzard recipe because it results in soft, meaty gizzards that resemble roast
beef more than the fried, crunchy things you get at bars.

Duck gizzards and other giblets are probably the least-used parts of the ducks and geese we bring
home, and this is a shame. Even many who happily eat chicken or turkey giblets at the holidays,
or as a bar snack, wrinkle their noses at eating the heart, liver and gizzard of their wild birds. I
have no idea why this is because it sure ain’t because of flavor.

Allow me to give you an iron-clad, no-fail recipe for gizzards that will turn haters into lovers.

I’m talking about corned, confit gizzards. Yep. Corned, as in corned beef. A simple brine followed
by a simple bath in a crockpot will turn out some of the finest meat in the waterfowl world. The
flavor is virtually identical to corned beef, and you can control the normally crunchy texture of the
gizzard by how long you cook them.

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This is my favorite way to eat duck or goose gizzards. Sliced thin or kept whole, and tossed with
a simple sauté of wild mushrooms, a bitter greens salad, or with sauerkraut and German spätzle —
it’s a really killer dish.

Technically, a gizzard is a muscular stomach: Two half-moons of meat powering a nasty, leathery
sack full of grit. The bird uses those muscles and that grit to grind things like fibrous plants and
tough seeds. You don’t eat the sack and the grit, of course. You slice the two lobes of meat off
each end of the gizzard and call it a day. You don’t need to ever see the inside of the sack at all.

It’s as easy as I just made it out to be. Take a short, sharp knife (a penknife is perfect) and look at
the gizzard: Slice what’s obviously meat away from the gushy stuff at the center. The more you
do, the closer to the edge you can get, and the more meat you will come away with.

I like to slip the tip of the knife under that silver skin on the sides of the meat to remove it, but in
this preparation you don’t even need to do that. You can clean a gizzard in literally 10 seconds.

Which birds to use? All geese, some of which can have gizzards that weigh a half-pound or more,
and big ducks like mallards, canvasbacks, redheads, gadwall and pintail. Interestingly, coots have
giant gizzards for their size – about the same size as a mallard’s – so if you shoot coots take the
gizzards; that’s a Cajun tip, by the way. (Ditto for pukekos, if you happen to live in New Zealand.)

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Once you have your cleaned duck gizzards, you brine them like corned beef in the fridge for a day,
then put them in a crockpot with some broth and maybe a bay leaf or two, turn it on and walk
away. You can eat them as little as 6 hours later, but the real magic happens a day later.

Yep, you heard right: If you crockpot the duck gizzards for a full 24 hours, they come out looking
exactly like corned beef and so tender you can squash them with a fork.

Give this a go and you will be become a believer.

A word on the salt. You will need to measure your meat here, as the salt is added in proportion to
its weight. Weigh your gizzards in grams and then measure out 2 percent of that weight in sea salt
or kosher salt. This method of curing will prevent your gizzards from getting too salty no matter
how long it is in the cure.

Your best bet is to massage the salt and spices into the duck gizzards, then vacuum seal it and set
it in the fridge for a few days before proceeding.

Duck Gizzard Confit

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Everything in here is pretty easy to find, with the possible exception of the pink curing salt. I buy
mine in bulk online, but some butcher shops will have it. You can also use Morton’s Tenderquick
in a pinch; follow that product’s instructions for corned beef to know how much of the stuff you
should use. You can also skip the curing salt altogether, but the gizzards will not be that pretty
rosy color.

DUCK, DUCK, GOOSE

Ari Z. Zivotofsky writes:13

Think Jewish food, and gefilte fish, cholent, kishke, bagels, and herring come to mind. Yet foie
gras, a delicacy generally associated with French cuisine, was the product of Ashkenazi Jewish
expertise for much of history. In fact, in the 16th and 17th centuries, leading European chefs,
including the Pope’s private chef, extolled the taste of Jewish-raised foie gras.

Yet this luxury item, meaning “fat liver” in French, has been the subject of a great deal of
controversy in recent years. It involves questions of ethics, law, and animal rights, not to mention
kashrus. In the past year, though, foie gras has made a kosher comeback — it’s now being
produced in the US for the first time under kosher supervision, and we didn’t want to miss out on
seeing firsthand how the growers and processors have navigated all the pitfalls and complications
accompanying production of this gastronomic innovation.

Foie gras (pronounced fwä-grä), the fattened liver of a waterfowl that develops due to force-
feeding, has a long history. The technique that the French call gavage — forced daily injections of
food directly down the esophagus to build the liver up to ten times its natural size — dates back
over 4,000 years, when the ancient Egyptians began keeping birds for food and deliberately
fattened them through force-feeding.

The practice spread to other areas around the Mediterranean, and after the fall of the Roman
Empire, the Jews preserved the methods of goose-cramming. For European Jews, poultry (and
especially goose) fat, or schmaltz, became an important source of kosher cooking fat in a region

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that relied on animal fat as opposed to olive or sesame oil for cooking. Foie gras was particularly
popular in Hungary, and one 95-year-old woman we met who had grown up Hungary and survived
Auschwitz told us about the geese in their backyard, noting that in Satmar, they only ate the non-
fattened, and not the “geshtoppte” geese.

Calm Your Liver

Hudson Valley Foie Gras is the largest producer of foie gras in the US and is now a partner in the
production of American kosher foie gras as well. Hudson Valley teamed up with Heritage Kosher,
a kosher poultry partnership run by Leiby Fisher and his neighbor Eliezer Franklin (from the time
Fisher entered the kosher poultry industry, he dreamed of producing kosher foie gras), and kosher
foie gras production began in 2017. Hudson Valley does the farming and feeding of the fowl while
Heritage Kosher processes the birds under kosher supervision and markets the product to the
kosher community.

But before Hudson Valley embarked on a kosher product, they needed to overcome several
significant hurdles. The first question was about the species to be used. Historically (until about
50 years ago) foie gras was produced from geese (foie gras d’oie), because their livers grow the
largest. However, because ducks are easier to raise than geese, foie gras produced from duck (foie
gras de canard) has taken over about 90 percent of the market, and the primary duck species used
is the mallard, a hybrid of a male Muscovy and a female Pekin, also known as a mule duck because
it is sterile. And herein lay the first hurdle when the OU was approached about giving kosher
certification to the enterprise: Is the Muscovy duck even kosher?

The kashrus history of the Muscovy is a bit complex: The question regarding Muscovy first arose
in the US in the mid-19th century when this bird, native to Central and South America, was ruled
to be not acceptable as there was no mesorah for it in the New World; that has been its status in
the US ever since. Yet in the early 20th century the Muscovy was analyzed in Israel, where many
poskim declared it kosher.

Still, while Hudson Valley uses the mallard for most of its production, for the kosher line, the OU
required they use Pekin duck instead. Actually, Franklin and Fisher were quite surprised
themselves that they could succeed in producing foie gras from pekin.

Superfood

In addition to the species issue, the other main halachic concern regarding foie gras relates to
T’reifos — specific physical defects in the animal. In order to fatten the bird, the food is forced
down its throat, which can cause a perforation in the esophagus (“veshet”) — and any hole in the
esophagus, no matter how small, makes the animal a treife. Furthermore, checking for a hole isn’t
always foolproof, because even a healed hole can be a halachic problem — the outer membrane is
red, which can mask small drops of blood and tiny perforations.
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The Rema (Yoreh Dei’ah 33:9) says that in his town they would stuff geese to make schmaltz and
that a perforated veshet was common; the goose was permitted only after the veshet was checked.
On the other hand, the early 17th-century Bach (Yoreh Dei’ah 33) notes that because the food is
forced in with pressure and is often dry and sharp, damage to the veshet is common and checking
the veshet is difficult if not impossible; therefore, he was in favor of banning such force-feeding.
Chochmas Adam (16:10) preferred to ban the gavage process because of the concern for treifos
but agreed that if done, it can be kosher. In modern times, both Tzitz Eliezer (11:49, 11:55, 12:52)
and Rav Ovadia Yosef (Yabia Omer 9, Yoreh Dei’ah 3) came out against foie gras and suggested
that even those who permitted it in earlier generations might have been machmir today. Rav Yosef
Shalom Elyashiv, however, in 2005 reportedly approved the foie gras that was being produced in
Israel at the time.

Nonetheless, most Jewish communities throughout eastern Europe continued to force-feed geese
while making sure to check the veshet. The most famous posek to permit the stuffed geese was the
Chasam Sofer (Yoreh Dei’ah 2:25; Chullin 43b), who recommended sifting and cooking the feed
to soften it before the gavage. In fact, the OU has adopted a similar position. Rav Yisroel Belsky
a”h, who personally inspected the initial group of esophagi for the OU, was pleasantly surprised
by the lack of blemishes, which he attributed to today’s improved feeding methodology.

The veshet issue is so central to the kosher production line, that as soon as we walked through the
main door of the facility, one of the shochtim greeted us with a veshet and immediately began to
explain how they check them. To the shock of our host, the shochet put it to his lips and blew it up
for us, showing how they check for holes (he explained that they usually use an air hose). Because
few, if any, bodkim in the US were knowledgeable in this area, an expert was brought in to initiate
the production and teach the process. Heritage Kosher today employs some of the few US experts
in veshet inspection.

It seems that just about every step in the process crosses a halachic minefield, and koshering the
duck is no exception. For most of the carcass koshering means a standard salting — but the liver
cannot be kashered by salting and instead must be broiled to remove the blood. What to do when
an essential aspect of real foie gras is that it is uncooked? Back in the OU office, meat expert Rabbi
Nosson Goldberg reviewed for us the large amount of halachic and technical discussion that went
into resolving this problem. And at the plant, one of the mashgichim was more than happy to show
us the specially designed oven used for kashering the livers. Much thought and experimentation
had gone into designing this specialty oven, which brings the liver to the internal temperature
required for koshering without ruining it for foie gras.

Gag Order

It’s no secret that the production of foie gras has been under attack by animal rights groups because
of the claim that the method of feeding causes pain and injury to the ducks. Jewish groups have
joined the outcry, arguing that the process violates tzaar baalei chayim. If true, this would be a
serious concern because according to most poskim, tzaar baalei chayim is a biblical prohibition.

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Our primary goal in visiting Hudson Valley was to personally observe the feeding process. The
Gemara (Shabbos 155b) doesn’t raise hesitations about it, and for hundreds of years Jews in
eastern Europe fattened geese for their schmaltz and liver, and no poskim, many of whom had
these very geese in their backyards, mentioned the issue of tzaar baalei chayim until the late 20th
century. It was actually the opposite: The rabbis were aware that geese used to being fed in this
manner would not eat any other way, and thus, out of concern for tzaar baalei chayim, even
permitted (with certain stipulations) force-feeding geese on Shabbos (Mishnah Berurah 324:27).

On the other hand, because we had read so much about how cruel the process appears to be (e.g.
forcing a tube down the animal’s esophagus), we were certain they would not permit us to visit the
farm.

Still, we contacted Marcus Henley, the affable but serious manager of Hudson Valley, and he is
so convinced of their methods that he is happy to have any objective person visit the farm. While
watching the process we asked Marcus if we could take pictures, and he answered with an emphatic
“of everything. Whatever you want.” He was the consummate friendly host as he took us through
both the farm and the production facility.

Marcus led us into a huge barn in which the hundreds of ducks were housed in small areas divided
by low wooden walls. About six to an area, they were comfortably waddling around. We expected
to see some type of duck torture chamber, in which feeding tubes were being shoved down the
birds’ throats. We had a mental picture of former Prisoner of Zion Natan Sharansky, who talked
about being force-fed in a 2015 interview in the Jerusalem Post: “I was force-fed in a Soviet prison
at least 35 times… I remember it vividly… one guard held me by my feet, another by my head,
and they would put a long pipe down my throat. It was difficult to breathe. They would put inside
me a few liters of liquids, probably soup. My heart suddenly started beating very hard and it would
hurt. Your body starts to feel like it just wants to stop already.”

But these were waterfowl, not humans. And the lining of the esophagus of waterfowl is
keratinized — i.e., it is lined with tissue like the calluses on a foot so that it isn’t irritated when the
bird eats spiny fish. Or when its handler inserts a feeding tube. Their esophagus is much more
flexible than that of a human, or even a chicken, enabling them to swallow whole, live fish. And
they don’t have a gag reflex either. In addition, due to the structure and location of the trachea, the
ducks can actually continue to breathe while the tube is in place.

We watched as the worker fed duck after duck, yet we didn’t detect the slightest sign of discomfort
or pain on the part of the birds. We saw how the worker deftly grabs a bird, inserts the rubber tube,
hits a button to discharge the feed, and within a few seconds the bird is waddling away, giving no
indication of resistance or aversion. This happens three times a day.

In order to minimize the chance of puncturing the veshet, the kashrus authorities requested that
Hudson Valley use a rubber tube instead of the standard metal pipe that’s inserted into the duck’s
throat (For most of history, gavage was done by hand and not only on geese, but even on camels
and other animals). In addition, as another precautionary measure, they required that the dry feed
pellets be mixed with water and fed as a mush.

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“These changes have definitely improved the welfare of the ducks and has enabled them to grow
larger and faster,” Marcus says. He’s now in the process of shifting the entire operation to the
“kosher style.”

Chewing the Fat

Yet what about the pathology caused by all this overeating? If one were to overstuff a cow or a
person, the liver would not swell to eight to ten times the baseline value. But migratory waterfowl
have the ability to gain large amounts of weight in a short period of time before their annual
migration. Hunters sometimes stumble upon wild foie gras — that is, they will shoot a bird and
discover a liver as big as that produced via gavage.

As is well-known, camels store energy as fat in their humps, while waterfowl store fat under their
skin, around their internal organs and thigh muscles, and in an enlarged liver. In mammals, such
as humans, hepatic steatosis (fatty liver) is a pathological condition. But in migratory birds,
through a process called lipogenesis, natural hepatic steatosis occurs in order to store energy as
fat. And recent scientific studies have shown that the steatosis is fully reversible and liver function
is preserved.

Marcus Henley explained how for the first 12 weeks, the ducks eat freely in large open areas with
hundreds of other ducks. At that point the liver weighs about 70 grams. The ducks are then
transferred to the area where they are fed by gavage, kept in an enclosed area and fed thrice daily
for 21 days. At that point the liver in a mulard can shoot up to 850 grams, and in a pekin up to 420
grams. They are then taken to slaughter.

I Kings 5

‫ַהָנָּהר ֶאֶרץ‬-‫ִמן‬--‫ַהַמְּמָלכוֹת‬-‫ ָהָיה מוֵֹשׁל ְבָּכל‬,‫א וְּשׁ‘ֹמה‬ 1 And Solomon ruled over all the kingdoms
-‫ ַמִגִּשׁים ִמ ְנָחה ְוֹעְבִדים ֶאת‬:‫ ְוַﬠד ְגּבוּל ִמְצָר ִים‬,‫ְפִּלְשִׁתּים‬ from the River unto the land of the Philistines,
{‫ }פ‬.‫ ְיֵמי ַחָיּיו‬-‫ ָכּל‬,‫ְשׁ‘ֹמה‬ and unto the border of Egypt; they brought
presents, and served Solomon all the days of
his life. {P}

‫ ְוִשִׁשּׁים‬,‫ ְשׁ‘ִשׁים ֹכּר ֹסֶלת‬:‫ ְליוֹם ֶאָחד‬,‫ְשׁ‘ֹמה‬-‫ב ַו ְיִהי ֶלֶחם‬ 2 And Solomon's provision for one day was
.‫ֹכּר ָקַמח‬ thirty measures of fine flour, and threescore
measures of meal;

;‫וֵּמָאה צ ֹאן‬--‫ ְוֶﬠְשׂ ִרים ָבָּקר ְרִﬠי‬,‫ג ֲﬠָשָׂרה ָבָקר ְבּ ִרִאים‬ 3 ten fat oxen, and twenty oxen out of the
.‫ ֲאבוִּסים‬,‫ וַּב ְרֻבּ ִרים‬,‫ ְוַיְחמוּר‬,‫ְלַבד ֵמַאָיּל וְּצִבי‬ pastures, and a hundred sheep, beside harts,
and gazelles, and roebucks, and fatted fowl.

33
The King’s Table

In 1948, a Hungarian Holocaust survivor and third-generation goose farmer arrived in Israel and
began producing one of the young country’s first exports — foie gras. It remained strictly an export
item until the late 1970s, when kosher foie gras produced from mullard became available in Israel.
By 2000, Israel was the third largest producer of foie gras in the word, behind France (where 80
percent of the world’s foie gras is produced) and Hungary. And then the animal rights lobby flexed
its muscles. In 2003 the Israeli Supreme Court banned foie gras production, and by 2006 all
production in Israel was ceased, with operations transferred to Hungary (today shochtim travel to
Hungary to shecht geese and produce kosher foie gras).

OU Ends Certification of Foie Gras 14

New York 2019 – The bankruptcy of a company producing kosher foie gras also spelled the end
of kosher certification by the Orthodox Union (OU) of the luxury food. According to Rabbi Moshe
Elefant, the COO of the OU Kashrus Division, the OU no longer certifies the controversial food
that has been frequently opposed on kashrus and ethical grounds. Contrary to several bloggers and
magazine articles, foie gras is not a trending kosher food despite its luxury food connotation. It is
popular in many European upscale kosher restaurants but not in American restaurants.

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34
Foie gras is made of the liver of a duck or goose that has been especially fattened. By French law,
foie gras is defined as the liver of a duck or goose fattened by force-feeding corn with a feeding
tube, a process also known as gavage. In Spain and other countries, it is occasionally produced
using natural feeding. Ducks are force-fed twice a day for 12.5 days and geese three times a day
for around 17 days. Ducks are typically slaughtered at 100 days and geese at 112 days. The force
feeding of the birds has been a bone of contention for many rabbis even when the bird is
slaughtered properly in terms of kashrus.

It has historically been a subject of great debate amongst leading rabbis and a subject of great
controversy in Israel, including several debates in the Knesset.

You can now eat glatt kosher foie gras in Israel 15

Prior to the decision, only non-glatt kosher foie gras was available for consumption.

Goose liver carpaccio and Halva mousse.

While kosher foie gras continues to be imported from Hungary, in 2013 MK Dov Lipman, with
the backing of the animal rights lobby, moved to ban its sale in Israel.

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35
For the first time, (JULY 17, 2020) Israel's Chief Rabbinical Council approved the importation of
Foie Gras (goose liver) that includes a Mehadrin (glatt) kashrut certification, allowing religious
observant Jews to enjoy the delicacy, according to a Wednesday press release from the Csengele
kosher slaughterhouse.

The decision to approve the importation of kosher foie gras was made by the Chief Rabbinical
Council of Israel in a telephone vote conducted among the council members. Glatt kosher products
are considered to be observed more stringently than non-glatt products by rabbis, making them
"extra kosher" for the most religiously observant.

Prior to the decision, only non-glatt kosher foie gras was available for consumption. In 2019, in a
bid to assess whether glatt foie gras could be imported, Rabbi Simcha Weiss, a member of the
Chief Rabbinical Council, along with Prof. Ari Z. Zivotofsky and Rabbi Roei Ginon (geese expert
from Chief Rabbinate), visited a Hungarian Jewish Community Association slaughterhouse in
Hungary to observe the fattening of the geese.

Following the conclusion of their visit, a team was established to implement a program to bring
glatt goose liver products to Israel with a certification. The Rabbinical Council approved the team's
recommendation of importation, with the Hungarian Csengele kosher slaughterhouse becoming
the first to get the certification.

This decision also opens the door for other importers to meet the new standards in order to receive
a glatt kosher stamp, which according to the Israeli Kikar ha-Shabbat news website, can be seen
by Israeli importers on the website.
The new regulations also call for supervisors to be made available in order to carry out inspections
at the site of the geese fattening, while not exceeding the slaughter of 4-5 geese per minute. These
facilities must also be routinely inspected by professional kosher inspectors.

36
 Foie Gras: The Indelicate Delicacy

EILEEN LAVINE WRITES:16

Foie gras—the controversial and expensive delicacy described by the renowned food
encyclopedia Larousse Gastronomique as “one of the jewels in the crown of French
gastronomy”—is made from the liver of a specially fattened duck or goose. Synonymous with fine
French cooking, it’s often prepared in a loaf-like terrine and seasoned with truffles, mushrooms or
a brandy such as a cognac or Armagnac.

But foie gras was invented in the time of the pharaohs: It was the Egyptians who first observed
wild geese stuffing themselves to gain strength for seasonal migrations and discovered that the
enlarged goose livers were very tasty. And so the Egyptians followed nature’s lead and began to
force-feed geese with grains, a process called “gavage.” Evidence of this is seen in bas reliefs in
Egyptian tombs that show workers stuffing food pellets down the throats of geese.

Jews, too, are a part of the foie gras story: The practice spread to Greece and Rome, where legend
has it that the Romans used Jewish slaves to feed the geese dried figs, calling the resulting
16
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37
product iecur ficatum, or “fig liver.” As Jews moved northward into western and central Europe
during the Middle Ages, they took the tradition with them, carrying it to Alsace, then France, where
the dish was named foie gras, or “fat liver.” New methods of feeding were developed, and
throughout Europe, Jews sold the fattened goose liver to non-Jews. Joan Nathan, in her
book, Quiches, Kugels, and Couscous: My Search for Jewish Cooking in France, says that by the
16th century, “Jews were seen as the best purveyors of foie gras.” A 1571 cookbook by the Pope’s
chef praised the liver of a goose “raised by the Jews.”

By this time poultry had become key to European Jewish cooking. Living in lands where olive oil
was not always plentiful and forbidden by the rules of kashrut from using lard or using butter with
meat, Jews relied on poultry fat—schmaltz in Yiddish. In fact, goose fat was often preferred over
chicken or duck fat because its lower melting point resulted in a creamier consistency. Geese were
what Mark Caro, in his 2009 book, The Foie Gras Wars: How a 5,000-Year-Old Delicacy Inspired
the World’s Fiercest Food Fight, described as “prodigious portable producers” or “walking
larders.” In addition to cooking with goose fat and consuming goose liver and giblets, Jews ate
roasted goose and stuffed goose neck, made gribenes (cracklings) out of the skin and plucked the
feathers to make down comforters.

Foie gras did present complications for Jews. For one, unlike other parts of an animal, the liver
cannot be kashered through soaking and salting—instead, it must be broiled or grilled over a flame.
In addition, the esophagus of the bird must be inspected after slaughter to ensure it has no holes,
scars or blemishes, which would indicate suffering while the animal was alive. More complex,
however, were the ethical questions. In the 11th century, the French scholar Rashi warned Jews
against the force-feeding practice, “for having made these beasts (geese) suffer while fattening
them.” This went against Jewish law prohibiting tza’ar ba’alei chayim, suffering to animals,
although some rabbis claimed that since none of the geese’s limbs were harmed and the geese did
not feel discomfort in their throats, foie gras was not treyf, or forbidden. Other rabbinic scholars
suggested that it is only permissible to inflict pain on an animal when the benefit of doing so is
significant; since there are no real nutritional benefits to foie gras, the process of force-feeding was
questionable.

This debate has continued to modern times, but foie gras has remained popular. The dish became
one of Israel’s first exported products shortly after 1948, when it was introduced to the fledgling
Jewish state by Moshe Friedman, a Hungarian Holocaust survivor and third-generation goose
farmer, according to Gil Marks in his Encyclopedia of Jewish Food. Friedman convinced the
government to fund the production of goose livers on his kibbutz; the product was then sold to an
Alsatian pâté manufacturer.

In recent years, the production of foie gras has come under fire. Some European countries have
banned forced feeding of animals, as did Israel in 2005, forcing many Israeli producers to move
elsewhere. Today, nearly 80 percent of foie gras—often made with less expensive ducks—is now
produced in France, primarily in the Dordogne and Alsace regions, with smaller quantities made
in Hungary, Belgium, Spain and Bulgaria. It is also produced in the United States, where in 2012,
California enacted a ban on the sale of force-fed foie gras.

38
Today, the largest American producer of foie gras is Hudson Valley Farms in Ferndale, New York,
founded in 1990 by Michael Ginor, a Seattle native and Brandeis graduate who spent two years
with the Israel Defense Forces, and Izzy Yanay, who once managed Israel’s biggest foie gras farm.
Their Moulard ducks, a crossbreed between a Muscovy male and a Pekin female, are bred with
cage-free methods and fed by workers inserting corn by hand through a plastic tube two or three
times a day for just a few seconds. Ginor responds to attacks by animal-rights activists by
maintaining that this method of force-feeding “is more gentle, more caring and most humane. We
do minimal damage to the ducks.” But it isn’t cheap: A one-and-a-half pound portion of fresh foie
gras costs $89. None of the duck goes to waste—products on sale include duck breast or magret,
duck legs to make confit, duck bones for stock and duck innards sold mostly to Asian buyers. To
cater to Jewish customers, the company hopes to offer a kosher foie gras in the future.

Foie gras bears a similarity to that staple of European Jewish cuisine: chopped liver. Popular in
countries such as Poland, Ukraine and Lithuania, chopped liver arrived in the United States along
with immigrants in the late 19th century. Chopped liver, however, is typically made from chicken,
beef or calf, and does not come from force-fed animals. Delicious as it may be, it has come to
stand for something insignificant, as in “What am I, chopped liver?” Such has not been the fate of
foie gras: whether in a terrine or a torchon, the controversial dish remains, for many, the epitome
of elegance.

Up & Comers: Liver and guts17

MICHAEL GINOR puts down his fork and surveys a gratifying scene he could never have
imagined a decade ago. New York's eating elite is practically trembling in anticipation of the
chilled foie gras under a port and white truffle gele, sent over by master chef Jean Georges at his
restaurant on Central Park West. The oohing and aahing turn to delighted groans as a lobe of wine-
poached foie gras, served in a fennel and caramelized black pepper sauce, is followed by a grilled

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39
chunk of the buttery liver served with sweet wines. Fluffy cardamom-flavored marshmallows
finish off the meal.

A delicacy once prized by the ancient Egyptians and Romans, the force-fed foie gras (literally,
fatty liver) has in France achieved the kind of reverence usually reserved for Victor Hugo and sex.
But it was little known in the U.S. until Ginor, a beefy 34-year-old, began peddling it to fashionable
restaurants in the Nineties.

Now Ginor and his partner, Izzy Yanay, can't meet the demand they've created. In eight years they
have turned a bankrupt poultry farm in Ferndale, N.Y. into Hudson Valley Foie Gras, a $9 million
(sales)
company earning close to 22% pretax. Hudson Valley virtually owns the U.S. market. Along with
a small California rival, Ginor is responsible for the 50,000 portions of fattened liver served in the
U.S. each week.

Hudson Valley's success is a triumph over improbability. The domestic production of foie gras has
long been protected from foreign competition thanks to a law prohibiting the import of fresh
poultry products into the U.S. (Oh, yes, when it comes to protecting farmers, the U.S. is no slouch.)
Yet no one was taking advantage of the situation. The great French chefs who arrived in the U.S.
in the Seventies unhappily made do with bits of disintegrating goose foie gras illegally smuggled
via Chicago in the bellies of fish.

Worse, no one yet knew how to raise geese in large groups without exposing them to disease. The
solution came from Hudson Valley's Yanay, who in the late Seventies was overseeing the
production of goose liver in Israel and came across a hybrid duck developed through artificial
insemination. Called a "moulard," the duck couldn't reproduce but was disease-resistant. Many
considered its liver tastier and less fatty than the better-known goose version.

So, in 1982 Yanay found backing from some U.S. businessmen and immigrated to upstate New
York, determined to create the world's first efficient, fully integrated foie gras production for an
40
outfit called Commonwealth Farms. But as soon as he got the company running and profitable, he
was fired.

Luckily for him, he ran into Ginor, who holds dual Israeli-U.S.
citizenship and in the Eighties was a hotshot bond trader for David Lerner Associates -- and
harbored a secret ambition. "I was a food groupie," he explains. "I read all the gourmet
magazines. I followed chefs around as if they were Hollywood stars."

In 1989 Ginor, having returned to the U.S. from military duty in Israel, was mulling over what he
should do with his life. As it happened, he ordered foie gras in a restaurant and was bitterly
disappointed because of its poor quality. His entrepreneurial bells began to clang, and a food
distributor put him in touch with Yanay, who by then was reduced to driving a long-haul truck.
The pair hit it off.

Ginor never returned to Wall Street, and in 1990 invested $750,000 in savings, along with an equal
sum loaned by his father, in an abandoned chicken farm just a few miles from competitor
Commonwealth.

Yanay carefully rebuilt his duck utopia, producing his flock by artificial insemination and rearing
it in spotless, airy, heat-
controlled pens. The forced funnel-feeding took place by hand. Ginor, meantime, approached the
same distributors that Commonwealth sold to, but went a step further by also dealing directly
with chefs. They were the ones, he discovered, who called the shots.

The chefs helped promote foie gras. Ginor dragged them to department stores, hotels and
interviews with lifestyle magazines to demonstrate the sublime pleasures of duck liver. Once the
chefs were in his camp, Ginor told distributors they had to choose between Commonwealth and
Hudson Valley. In this way he steadily picked off Commonwealth's customers.

41
Then, suddenly, disaster. Just before Christmas 1992, the busiest time of the year, a weeping Yanay
called Ginor at 5 a.m. to report that the old roof on the coop had just caved in, killing half their
stock.

They were potentially ruined, but Ginor doesn't give up easily.

He decided to bluff his competitor. After persuading his father to cosign a promissory note for
$1.2 million, Ginor went to the people at Commonwealth and said he would drive them out of
business. Oh yeah? his rival shot back, we heard you had an accident. Nothing serious, replied
Ginor coolly, but, yes, he was momentarily short of product. Now would be a great time for
Commonwealth to sell out -- while there was still something left to sell.

The competitors met that evening, and Ginor turned up the heat. He kept talking down the value
of Commonwealth's assets, even harassing his opponent about the price of a truck. "We only
started on the big picture at 2 a.m.," he says. "By 6:20 a.m. we closed the deal. All they wanted at
that point was a bed." Ginor got for $1.3 million the company that had once fired Yanay.

The poultry wars are now just a memory. But there were other skirmishes: In 1993 and 1994 animal
rights activists waved blood-soaked shirts in front of a gourmet food convention in Manhattan,
even falsely claiming that the ducks' feet had been nailed to the ground and their livers exploded.
Ginor defended his methods as humane. "Birds naturally gorge prior to migration," he says. The
activists, finding gourmets resistant to their propaganda, moved on.

Today Ginor is a sought-after gourmet celebrity in his own right.

Dozens of chefs join him each year for his food-and-wine festivals, such as a month-long event at
Disney's Epcot Center. His latest project is raising capital to take over a lifestyle cable TV station.

So why did he walk into Jean Georges' fancy restaurant wearing a worn and scruffy black jacket?
Ginor says that every day since his father died three years ago, he's been wearing the old man's

42
clothes as a talisman. (He also sports his father's gold Tissot watch.) The talisman seems to be
working.

The scenic village of Rust, known around the world for the storks who nest on the roof tops

here. What a charming place this was and we were entertained by the storks as they flew in

and out of their nests.

Hungarian Goose Liver

For us, the ‘Great Search For The Source of Hungarian Goose Liver’ started with my wife
Erzsebet’s recollection of her grandmother in her farmyard’s poultry pen, bent over a goose,
inserting a funnel into its throat, and stuffing corn down into the funnel. The method, which also

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involves stroking the goose’s neck, was once called ‘gavage,’ from the French word for gullet or
throat. It creates a goose liver grown to as much as ten times its normal size.

That recollection sent us to central Europe’s most famous restaurant, Gundel, on the edge of a
Budapest city park, and to Bábolna, a small city halfway to Vienna, where a goose liver production
company shares its headquarters with an institute devoted, since the eighteenth century, to the
breeding and raising of purebred Arabian horses.

The search was a step back in time. Stuffing geese is an ancient tradition in Hungary. When the
country was a Roman province, Pannonia, its residents followed the Roman tradition of stuffing
geese with figs. In the late 9th century AD, the Magyar tribes—ancestors of today’s Hungarians—
came into the Carpathian basin, drove out its inhabitants and continued to stuff geese, following
the tradition already established by the people who preceded them.
Although gourmets have prized Hungarian goose liver through the ages, its export was limited by
the need to keep the product fresh. The first significant delivery of Hungarian goose liver to
western Europe was in 1883 when retailer Antal Hirschfeld arranged for a special refrigerated car
to be hooked onto the Orient Express, making transport of the product safe and fast.
Today, force-feeding of geese has provoked controversy. Ironically, the hullabaloo has helped sell
Hungarian goose liver. Calling it ‘violence on our plate’, the animal rights movement in France
has raised enough ruckus to induce the French foie gras industry to cover its tracks by buying more
of its raw goose liver from Hungary. Since Hungary has no animal rights movement to speak of,
its ability to produce and sell 80 percent of the world’s raw goose liver—of which 1,400 tons goes
to France—has not been affected.

Hungary, France, and Israel produce nearly all the world’s foie gras—’fat liver’. Hungary makes
all its product from goose liver, but France pulls the wool—or feathers—over the eyes of wannabe
gourmets by making much of its pâté from duck liver.

In our search, we learned that most of Hungary’s raw goose liver originates at a government-owned
company called Bábolna, whose headquarters is in the eponymous city of Bábolna, midway
between Budapest and Vienna, off the main road. We traveled by train to Komárom and then by
bus to Bábolna, a cost of the equivalent of $15.20 total for the two of us.
The bus ride took us through villages with clock-steepled churches and rust-colored tile roofs.
Every little patch of ground had a garden with flowers, fruits, and vegetables—pink and red roses,
sunflowers, bright orange tiger lilies, poppies, tomatoes, corn, strawberries, raspberries pear trees,
cabbages, and kohlrabi. Geraniums were everywhere, scarlet and cheerful in gardens, pots, and
window boxes. Rows of freshly cut hay striped the green fields, next to vast carpets of corn and
wheat.

44
The small city of Bábolna is also headquarters for the Bábolna National Stud Farm, where
Hungarians have been breeding and raising horses since 1789 and where, in 1836, a Syrian stallion,
Shagya, was imported to start a line of Arabian horses that have fetched as much as $90,000 at
auction. The company owns a splendid hotel, the Imperial, a stone’s throw from the horse stables.

We were taken to see gaggles of geese (geese are in flocks only when flying) in several of the
company’s poultry yards and learned that geese lay eggs every other day for roughly half the year
and then take it easy for most of the rest of the year. Bábolna ships the eggs—fertilized, of course,
by the ganders—to about a thousand farmers around the country, most of them in Alföld—the
Great Plains in eastern Hungary. Actually, the company only leases the eggs to the farmers. In its
vertically integrated system, it also provides a special feed mix for the geese to eat. These farmers
hatch the eggs and raise the geese for as long as 25 weeks, after which time they ship them on to
another tier of farmers who force-feed the birds five times a day for 18 days. Antibiotics and
additives are strictly forbidden; only specially prepared corn is fed. Károly Czinder, the director
of Bábolna, does not like to call it force-feeding. He prefers the euphemism, ‘special feeding
process’.

Stewed gizzards in broth for Rosh Hashanah

To give them that very special taste, cooking the gizzards in soup broth - from the above recipe -
rather than water is recommended, and it's best to mix in some goulash meat chunks as well. One
other secret: use a little schmaltz (goose fat). These days, it can be had in both kosher and non-
kosher forms (the latter from Mizra).

Ingredients:
1 kilo chicken gizzards, well cleaned
1/2 goulash meat, cut in small cubes
3 tablespoons oil
5 medium onions
2 tbsp. schmaltz
salt and black pepper
1 tsp. honey
1 tsp. red paprika
2-3 cups chicken broth (see previous recipe)

Directions:
1. Peel and quarter the onions and place them in a food processor; process in pulses until they are coarsely chopped.

2. In a wok or deep skillet (sauteuse), put the oil, schmaltz, onions, honey, salt and pepper, and steam, stirring periodically. When
the onions soften, add water, cover and cook for two minutes. Remove cover and continue cooking until the onions are browned
but not burned.

3. Meanwhile, chop the gizzards into thirds and make sure to remove all gristle, veins and fat.

4. Add the gizzards, goulash meat and seasonings to the onions, and steam together over high heat for 10 minutes, while stirring.

5. Meanwhile, heat the broth (powdered soup mix may be used instead, but there is an undeniable difference).

6. Transfer the onion and meatmixture to a pot, most preferably a pressure cooker. Add the broth and a little more salt, bring to a
boil, cover, lower the heat and cook under pressure for 40 minutes. (In a regular pot, cook at least an hour, or until the gizzards
become very soft.)

Note: This dish is best served on a bed of plain white rice. Some of the gravy from the pot may be
saved, added to boiling water and used for cooking well-rinsed, uncooked rice. Use 1 cup of rice
for every 2 cups of liquid. Season to taste. Yummy.

46
 Goose: A Hanukkah Tradition
Jeffrey Yoskowitz writes:19

Christmas dinner has it all: a well-balanced feast with a main dish — turkey, ham or goose — a
range of sides, delicious desserts and eggnog to top it off. And Hanukkah? Jews typically enjoy
latkes smothered in sour cream or applesauce (my preference), jelly doughnuts, chocolate coins
and, consequently, eight days of pounding Tums.

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47
While I love these holiday specialties, they don’t constitute a coherent, let alone sensible, meal.
For years I’ve suffered the gastric consequences of oddly paired fried foods and desserts without
the anchor of a solid and celebrated main course.

The story goes that eating such foods commemorates the unlikely military victory of the
Maccabees over the Greeks in ancient times. Once they rededicated the Jewish temple, they found
enough oil to light the temple lamp for one day, but somehow the oil lasted for eight. Hanukkah
celebrations are about the miracle of oil, and tasty things fried in it.

For Jews like my ancestors from Central and Eastern Europe, the real factor that defined Hanukkah
eating was less miraculous: the harsh winter season, when the earth yielded nothing. Jews in
prewar Europe ate what was available and made pancakes from grated turnips, potatoes or milled
grains. They’d fry them in schmaltz, rendered poultry fat, an essential component of Ashkenazi
Jewish cooking.

It didn’t end there, though. In the Old World there was a culinary tradition that has been all but
forgotten among American Jews: a Hanukkah goose. When Hanukkah fell on the Sabbath, Jewish
families of means would host a feast with roast goose, latkes fried in its schmaltz and most likely
pickled vegetables. “The smell of smoking goose fat became the traditional scent” of Hanukkah,
Michael Wex says in his book “Rhapsody in Schmaltz.”

In fact, the waterfowl played a major role in Jewish cooking in prewar Europe. It was the preferred
meat for those able to afford it. The French food writer Édouard de Pomiane wrote in 1929 that
the goose was a “beneficent animal” for the Jews of Poland as it supplied so much to a household,
from feathers for bedding to flesh for roasting to fats for rendering.

Despite the goose’s copious gifts, it has fallen out of favor. Today it’s hard to find goose meat. In
New York City, select butcher shops take Christmas orders, but they’re pricey and increasingly
uncommon. Finding a kosher goose is nearly impossible and prohibitively expensive. Two years
ago I paid $250 for a nine-pound kosher goose that was specially raised, ritually slaughtered, then
delivered by the farmer himself.

The difficulty of the goose chase isn’t primarily that people’s tastes have changed, but that our
food system has. Poultry farms made the transition from family operations to factories in the
postwar period. Chickens, with the help of intensive breeding practices and the introduction of
antibiotics, are now reared in large farms generally known as confined-animal feeding operations.
Geese are temperamental and aggressive, making them harder to confine. And since they prefer to
graze and can’t entirely subsist on grain, it is even harder to raise them at scale, meaning slimmer
profit margins.

For Eastern European Jewish immigrants in the United States, there was much to celebrate about
eating in the mid-20th century. Foods were comparatively cheaper than in Europe and convenience
took priority. Jewish cooks, mostly women at the time, began spending their days either in the
work force or tending to matters of the home rather than rendering schmaltz. The introduction of
inexpensive vegetable shortening and seed oils transformed Jewish kitchens and turned the goose

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into even more of a luxurious proposition once its fat, one of the primary reasons the animal was
reared in the first place, was considered unnecessary.

Jewish Americans also began to expect that someone else would raise and slaughter, then pluck
and salt their poultry (to make it kosher) for them. Most kosher processing plants today aren’t
equipped to handle geese, so the birds must be hand-plucked. “People used to eat a goose every
Hanukkah when labor was cheap,” my friend Naftali Hanau of Grow and Behold, a pasture-raised
kosher meat company, told me. “But those were European shtetl labor prices.” Since chicken is
far cheaper to produce, it has become the go-to bird in American Jewish kitchens.

There’s a nice and simple way to honor the delectable tradition of the Hanukkah goose: Make it
the centerpiece of at least one holiday meal. Try to find a goose from a small farm or your local
butcher. If you can’t track one down or if it’s too expensive, use a pasture-raised duck or chicken
and render its fat yourself. That’s right, make schmaltz. The past couple of years I’ve roasted a
goose or duck with apples and onions. While the birds were in the oven, I fried up latkes in
schmaltz, then served them to my guests with apple-pear sauce and probiotic sauerkraut — an Old
World substitute for Tums.

Hosting a goose-centric holiday meal may sound like an attempt to make Hanukkah more like
Christmas, but it’s actually a distinctive Jewish tradition and a way to support small-scale farms
that practice sustainable agriculture. By looking back to where our traditions come from, we can
find relevant inspiration and meaning for today. Plus, there is no better way to celebrate the
Hanukkah miracle than latkes fried in goose fat.

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