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Jewish Diversity Simmers in New Children’s Picture Book, ‘This Is Not a Cholent’

The title may be “This Is Not a Cholent,” but symbolically, the book is a proverbial response to anyone who has ever met an out-of-the-box Jew, especially someone who wasn’t Ashkenazi.
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August 1, 2024

I was a toddler when I first tasted the deeply comforting flavors of gondi, the traditional Persian Shabbat meatball and broth stew that, like most comfort foods, is cooked slowly over a low simmer.

I was in my 20s when I first discovered two other slow-cooked Sephardic or Mizrahi Shabbat foods: the divine richness of Moroccan dafina, a dish that features tender chunks of beef, garbanzo beans and wheat berries; and t’bit, the succulent Iraqi Shabbat dish that is dripping with meat, cinnamon, paprika, and ginger.

Amazingly, I was in my 30s when I first tasted cholent.

As opposed to my vivid descriptions of non-Ashkenazi Shabbat foods above, cholent needs no introduction. That’s because it’s widely assumed that all Jews know what it is, and prepare it for Shabbat. In fact, the word, “cholent,” is so ubiquitous that its non-Ashkenazi counterparts are often not called by their own names, whether dafina or t’bit, but simply known as “Moroccan cholent” or “Iraqi cholent.”

But half of the Jewish world — the non-Ashkenazi half — never knew about cholent until recent decades. Half of world Jewry also didn’t know about bagels, lox, latkes, hamantaschen, Hanukkah sufganiyot and yes, even challah, until the mid-20th century, with initial Ashkenazi culinary dominance after the establishment of the modern state of Israel, and with pop culture in America that made it seem as though every Jew stood on a New York City street corner, holding a bagel in one hand and a challah loaf in another.

At a young age, many Jews are exposed to narratives that highlight only half of the Jewish world, and that is why Jewish children’s books that feature Sephardic and Mizrahi stories, characters and settings are so critical. In this vibrant, mostly new landscape of storytelling — with its absence of Eastern European shtetls, predictable Jewish names, and references to matzah ball soup that are common to many Jewish children’s picture books — Sarah Sassoon is leading the way in captivating young readers with stories about the Jews of the Middle East.

In this vibrant, mostly new landscape of storytelling — with its absence of Eastern European shtetls, predictable Jewish names, and references to matzah ball soup that are common to many Jewish children’s picture books — Sarah Sassoon is leading the way in captivating young readers with stories about the Jews of the Middle East.

Sassoon, a Jerusalem-based author, poet and educator who was born in Sydney, Australia to an Iraqi Jewish family, has written her second children’s picture book, “This Is Not a Cholent” (Kar-Ben 2024), illustrated beautifully by Viviana Garofoli, who was born in Argentina and has illustrated more than 70 picture books.

Sarah Sassoon. Photo by Rachel Markowitz

Sassoon’s first picture book, “Shoham’s Bangle” (Kar-Ben, 2022), tells the poignant story of a Jewish family who is forced to leave Iraq in the 1950s. Both works are anchored by the character of a resilient, wise grandmother, based on Sassoon’s own grandmother, Nana Aliza.

The setting of the book also renders the work a standout, as the story is set in Australia and focuses on a little girl named Amira and her grandmother, Nana, who enter the “Best Cholent Competition Down Under.” Young readers will be enthralled to learn that the land that they most likely associate with kangaroos, koala bears and kookaburras is home to many Jews (over 100,000, to be precise, comprising the ninth-largest Jewish community in the world).

Sassoon grew up in Sydney and learned how to cook t’bit and other Iraqi Jewish dishes with her grandmother. In “This Is Not a Cholent,” Amira and her grandmother, Nana, attempt to wow judges with t’bit, as onlookers relentlessly question their dish.

“‘This Is Not a Cholent’ was an idea I had soon after as I imagined what it would be like to share my Iraqi Jewish heritage with the Ashkenazi-majority community I grew up with in Sydney,” Sassoon told me.

The title may be “This Is Not a Cholent,” but symbolically, the book is a proverbial response to anyone who has ever met an out-of-the-box Jew, especially someone who wasn’t Ashkenazi, and declared, “This is not a Jew!” Amira and her grandmother have darker skin and Middle Eastern-sounding names; their cholent isn’t even a cholent; it has its own name, t’bit, because it merits its own name after nearly 3,000 years of Jewish presence in Mesopotamia/Iraq.

One of the greatest strengths of the story is Sassoon’s deliberate characterization of Amira and Nana as the “other” Jews who nonetheless possess a wonderful, no-nonsense confidence. As onlookers gather to find fault with their entry in the competition, grandmother and granddaughter, writes Sassoon, “went straight to work.” And why not? As Iraqi Jews, t’bit is the primary Shabbat dish that they know. Why wouldn’t they have the audacity to believe that it is as equal a Shabbat staple as cholent?

As a crowd gathers, watching Amira add ginger, garlic and onion to the pot, someone declares, “This is not a cholent. What’s ginger doing in cholent?” Amira simply smiles and continues to prepare t’bit.

When another onlooker asks, “Shouldn’t there be potatoes?” it is Amira who reassures her grandmother, “Don’t worry, Nana. They’ll love it.” This is a little girl who truly owns her Iraqi Jewish identity.

Other questions range from “What’s that unusual aroma?” to “What’s rice doing in a cholent?” There are no rude questions, but there is an air to the questions that reinforce the seemingly inarguable notion that cholent is the definitive slow-cooked Shabbat dish.

Finally, as shocked passerby watch Nana stitch the t’bit’s stuffed chicken with a needle and thread, everyone gasps. “What’s that for?” the crowd asks in bewilderment. “You can’t sew a cholent!”

Amira’s response is, for lack of a better term, epic: “Watch us!”

Sassoon, who loves to work with her hands in the kitchen, is not removed from the subject matter. In fact, one can easily imagine her staining her own hands with spices and meticulously grating ginger while preparing t’bit for her family ahead of Shabbat.

This proximity to the story results in vivid descriptions that leave readers almost tasting and smelling the rich Shabbat stew that Amira and Nana are preparing, from adding “diced tomatoes into the golden mix, along with hefty pinches of paprika, baharat and cinnamon” to throwing in a “joyous sprinkle of cardamom.” While the world around them cannot wrap its head around their unfamiliar cholent, Amira and Nana focus on one task: Infusing their dish with ancient flavors, and a heaping amount of Jewish joy.

But Amira is not made of stone, and eventually, the constant questions begin to rattle her. “I had fun creating the shocked responses of the audience to all the weird and wonderful ingredients that make up a t’bit (so utterly different to European Jewish cholent),” said Sassoon.

“What I didn’t expect was how anxious Amira would become, and I realized that’s the real story for me,” she added. “The anxiety that can accompany being different, and sharing your own unique culture with a wider audience.”

When the bewildered crowd declares, “Whoever heard of eggs in a cholent!”, Nana, like any sage grandmother, calmly responds, “Stewed brown eggs are part of our tradition, passed from my grandmother to my mother, to me, and now to Amira.”

“I think my grandmother’s support was that she was who she was without apology,” said Sassoon. “So proud and dedicated to producing her complicated, time-consuming dishes that she grew up with. She was like a last link to that ancient Iraqi Babylonian Jewish world where Jews were a third of [the population of] Baghdad in 1917.”

Sassoon continued, “Her pride and knowing who she was as a Jew with a very special, rich and unique Jewish story still gives me strength today, to share Iraqi Jewish food and stories.”

In the end, it is not about winning or losing the “Best Cholent Competition Down Under,” and I won’t spoil the ending for readers. At its core, “This Is Not a Cholent” is about having a literal seat at the proverbial Jewish table, even if that seat is sprinkled with remnants of cinnamon, paprika and a child’s desire to own and enjoy her ancient heritage.

Thankfully, Nana and Amira do not ask for a seat at the proverbial table; for the most part, they know they are entitled to a seat, and that their contribution is just as valid as the others. No permission is asked to enter a cholent competition; no explanations are offered to argue that Iraqi Jews are just as Jewish as anyone else. “Whatever happens,” Nana tells her granddaughter, “We know this is our own special cholent that’s traveled through many hands to be here.”


Tabby Refael is an award-winning writer, speaker and weekly columnist for The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles. Follow her on X and Instagram @TabbyRefael

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