Conjuring Spring

In some ways, I’m a traditionalist. When the holidays come around, I’m usually making lists of what my mom and my baba Sarah made, of what so many wonderful Jewish cooks, near and far, will be making right now. There’s a tremendous amount of satisfaction in this obedience — this carrying forward of what has come before. Of imagining yourself as part of a long line of cooks, preserving memory and identity by separating eggs and peeling apples.

And yet, sometimes putting together a traditional menu...