For most of my life, matzoh brei was something I ate once a year, on the day after Passover, when my dad made it for the whole family. But when I had leftover matzoh after passover a few years ago, I decided to teach my goyish boyfriend (now husband) how to make brei. I made it for him the way my dad always made it for me: simply, with no garnishes but salt and pepper. I inherited my dad's scorn for any variations on this formula. Powdered sugar, vegetables, herbs, and "southwestern brei" with salsa are all verboten. I made my boyfriend promise to honor the integrity of the recipe, which, when made with nothing more than eggs, matzoh, and fat, offered a sublimity beyond the sum of its parts.
My boyfriend loved it so much that he made it a mainstay in his diet. He makes it for himself for either breakfast or dinner most days—sometimes breakfast and dinner. I've never heard of someone making matzoh brei after the Passover leftovers have been finished, let alone an Eastern Canadian-born wasp. When I thought of him at Safeway picking up beer, eggs, and Manishevitz matzoh, I couldn't help but kvell.
When you make a recipe so often, you start to understand it in a new, more intimate way. I think I've earned the right to add caramelized onions to the very short list of additions which are permissible in matzoh brei. —linzarella
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