Seasoned Green Beans

The seder was Saturday and it was everything a seder should be: long, loud, meaningful, overfed. Fourteen people at my table, the Maxwell House Haggadahs open at each place (the right Haggadahs, the same ones, worn at the corners from forty years of use), and the story told from beginning to end — the slavery, the plagues, the parting of the sea, the freedom — told by a room full of people who are free and who know it and who eat the bread of affliction to remember what it was like to not be free, and the remembering is the gratitude, and the gratitude is the food.

Ethan asked the four questions. His voice was clear and strong and the Hebrew was correct and I sat at the head of my table and listened to my grandson ask, "Why is this night different from all other nights?" and I thought: because you are asking, and because I am here to hear you ask, and because your grandfather is at this table, in his chair, eating the matzo ball soup with careful attention, and because the soup is fluffy, always fluffy, and because forty years of Passovers have led to this one, this night, this question, this boy. Different from all other nights. Every night is different from all other nights. That is the point of nights. That is the point of the asking.

Marvin ate. He ate the gefilte fish and the matzo ball soup and the brisket and the charoset, and he ate with the steady, unhurried pace of a man who is present to the food if not to the liturgy, and the presence was enough, the eating was enough, the sitting-at-the-table was enough. Sophie sat next to him and held his hand during the ten plagues, because Sophie is five and has decided that holding Grandpa's hand during the scary parts is her job, and the tenderness of a five-year-old protecting a seventy-one-year-old from the ten plagues of Egypt is the kind of image that breaks you open and puts you back together simultaneously.

Every year I tell myself the brisket and the matzo ball soup are the stars, and every year the green beans remind me that the quiet dishes are the ones that hold a meal together — the ones that get passed around the table twice without anyone making a fuss, the ones that disappear. I’ve made these seasoned green beans alongside the brisket for as long as I can remember, and after a seder like this one — after Ethan’s four questions and Sophie’s small hand in Marvin’s and fourteen people eating until they couldn’t — I wanted to write them down properly, so they don’t stay a secret anymore.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs fresh green beans, trimmed
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for blanching water
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest (optional)

Instructions

Blanch the beans. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the green beans and cook for 3 to 4 minutes, until bright green and just tender. Drain and immediately transfer to a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking. Drain again and pat dry.
Heat the oil. In a large skillet over medium heat, warm the olive oil until shimmering. Add the minced garlic and cook, stirring frequently, for about 1 minute until fragrant but not browned.
Season and sauté. Add the blanched green beans to the skillet. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, onion powder, and paprika. Toss to coat and cook, stirring occasionally, for 4 to 5 minutes until the beans are heated through and lightly glazed with the seasoned oil.
Finish with lemon. Remove from heat and drizzle with lemon juice. Add lemon zest if using. Toss once more and taste for seasoning, adjusting salt and pepper as needed.
Serve. Transfer to a serving platter. These are excellent hot, but also hold up well at room temperature — which makes them ideal for a long seder table where dishes travel slowly around the room.

Nutrition (per serving)

Seasoned Green Beans — The Side Dish That Held Its Place at the Seder Table