If you didn't grow up eating noodle kugel, the concept probably sounds a little strange to you. Noodle kugel is a casserole of noodles bathed in a creamy, buttery, and sweet sauce then baked until soggy, crispy, or a combination of both. It sounds like dessert, but this Jewish dish is staunchly savory (well, at least it's served with the main course). "Whenever someone tries kugel for the first time," explains associate food editor Claire Saffitz, "They're like, 'Why is this macaroni and cheese so sweet?'" One thing's for certain: Every family that has a traditional kugel recipe is convinced theirs is not only the best, but the only one.
The funny thing is, beyond the presence of sugar and noodles, there isn't much that kugelers can agree on. Some contain raisins, some have apples. Most have dairy, like sour cream or cottage cheese, but some don't. Some are baked until the top layer of noodles gets crunchy and crispy, and some are protected by a moist crust. When Saffitz, senior web editor Carey Polis, and assistant to the editor-in-chief Emma Wartzman were discussing their family's epic kugel recipes, it became immediately clear: They may share the same name and same 9 X 13 glass Pyrex casserole dish, but beyond that, they were vastly different.
There was only one thing to do: A noodle kugel-off. Each contestant prepared her family's original recipe, and then they were put to the test by judges and senior editors Meryl Rothstein and Julia Kramer (both kugel aficionados, if not enthusiasts) and kugel-newbie and food director Carla Music. Here's how the three kugels fared.
Claire's kugel looked overwhelmingly "kugel-like," according to the judges. It was tall, with deeply browned noodles cresting from the top like the jagged mountain tops of the Tetons. Made with a whole stick of butter, as well as full-fat cottage cheese and cream cheese, it was moist and creamy in the interior. The kugel was also studded with raisins, which is admittedly a controversial move. ("If anyone uses raisins, they're disqualified," said editor-in-chief Adam Rapoport, before refusing to attend.)
Upon further inspection, it was revealed that Saffitz did not entirely stick to the original recipe. The golden raisins were plumped in Calvados, a flurry of lemon zest was added to the interior, and the top was dusted with demerara sugar before being put under the broiler. The changes were welcome additions, most notably the boozy fruit. "I don't hate the raisins. Why does everyone hate the raisins?" wondered Rothstein.
Polis's recipe comes from her mother, who traditionally mixes the cooked egg noodles with melted margarine—and no sour cream, cottage cheese, or cream cheese. Polis swapped out the margarine for butter, but beyond that, stayed true to the original recipe—right down to the canned apple pie topping. It added another element of sweetness to the noodles, which were flavored with sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon.
Polis's was a delightful combination of dense-and-crunchy and light-and-soft noodles in the interior, a textural feat which, admitted Polis, may have been a happy accident. "I'm not sure I meant to do that," she said. Intentional or not, it was a joy to eat and achieved at being both dry and wet at the same time, which, according to Kramer, is an important hallmark of Jewish cuisine.
Wartzman's kugel, originally from her Great Aunt Helen, was made with purposefully over-boiled fine egg noodles for a pudding-like, ultra custardy consistency. It was covered with a crumb topping made from crushed graham crackers and butter. This is not traditional. ("Have you ever seen another noodle kugel like this, anywhere?" inquired Kramer. "No," replied Wartzman.") It resembled a coffee cake, which immediately won digital food editor Dawn Perry's heart. In fact, the crumb topping threw our judges for a loop—everyone present at the tasting noted that the kugel was much less sweet than they were anticipating.
Once it was all said and tasted, our tasting panel found it impossible to choose a favorite. Instead, plans were implemented for another round of baking that would produce the ideal Frankenkugel. What would make the ideal casserole? Wide egg noodles, as in Polis's and Saffitz's kugels. And also Wartzman's crumb topping. The raisins dotting the interior would be swapped for apples, as in Polis's, but this time they would be fresh. The butter, dairy, vanilla, and sugar would, of course, remain present.
"This is good," exclaimed editorial assistant Belle Cushing as she took a bite. "I just keep wanting it to be savory."
Or you could go with this tried and true version:
