By coincidence, mohn sounds like Haman (Hamohn in Hebrew), the supervillain of the Purim story who plotted to annihilate the Jews of Persia. German Jews, writes Marks, “renamed this Teutonic cookie as hamantasch ..meaning ‘Haman’s pocket.’” It was common, in Jewish communities all around the world, to prepare foods for Purim that somehow alluded to Haman, his body, the clothes he wore, or to other characters in the Purim story. In eating those pastries, writes Marks, a person “symbolically erases Haman’s name.”

 Following the Black Plague in the 14th century, many German Jews fled their homes and migrated eastward, bringing their poppy seed stuffed pastries with them. 

 Shmil Holland, a restaurateur, expert on Eastern European Jewish food, and author of the cookbook, Schmaltz, says that over time, this “haman’s pocket” cookie became associated with Purim in Eastern Europe, and poppy seed became the “ultimate Purim filling.” But other fillings gained popularity, too.

 The choices were limited by the time of year and what was available in the markets and the cellars of Eastern Europe. Since Purim falls at the end of winter, the abundant fresh fruits and berries, like cherries, strawberries, and raspberries found in the woods and orchards of that region in the warm weather were not an option. Winter fare such as dried fruits, nuts, poppy seeds, honey, or kasha (buckwheat) was.

 In Poland, says Holland, hamantaschen were sometimes stuffed with “dried pears that were soaked in water or alcohol, then chopped and mixed with walnuts.” Jews in Bukovina (an area that is divided today between Ukraine and Romania), Serbia and Moldova filled their holiday cookies with a walnut paste combined with honey.

 Following a Purim-like story of their own, the Jews in Bohemia and Czechoslovakia (today’s Czech Republic and Slovakia) embraced a special hamantaschen filling called povidl (known as lekvar in the United States) which is a thick spread made from slow cooking the dark purple Damson plums that are harvested in Eastern Europe at the very end of summer. After the fruit and its peel are cooked for 48 hours on a low flame, says Holland, they become a sweet paste. It lasts for months when kept cool in the basement, and it was used in kugels, strudels, cakes, and blintzes in central and Eastern Europe. Those same plums are used, too, to make slivovitz, the fiery, high proof plum brandy.

 According to Holland, about 300 years ago a Jewish shopkeeper named David Brandeis was accused of selling poisoned povidl to a Christian family. After eating Brandeis’ povidl, the Christian customers fell ill — one of them died — and Brandeis and his caramel-like confection were blamed. Brandeis was imprisoned. 

 An investigation uncovered, however, that the person who died met his end from the flu, and not from anything purchased from Brandeis. So, just as the Jews in Persia were saved from Haman’s evil plot at the last moment, so, too, were David Brandeis and the Bohemian Jewish community in Brandeis’ town. As fate would have it, Brandeis was released from jail four days before Purim. To commemorate that miracle, the Jews of that region forever after filled their hamantaschen with the thick, sweet plum spread.

 While most Purim baked goods are sweet, symbolic of a sweet future, there were savory options, too. In Poland, says Holland, kasha, a widely available grain, was prepared with fried onions, seasoned with salt and black pepper, stuffed into the triangle-shaped pastry, and then topped with whole poppy seeds. 

 In Israel today, stores begin filling up with this Eastern European pastry weeks before Purim. You can still get the classic poppy seed filling, but the choices today spread across the culinary spectrum. “Every year,” says Holland, “fillings get more creative. You can get hamantaschen filled with pastry cream and chocolate.” Of course, here in the United States we also have an expansive list of flavors that become part of the always-changing Jewish food landscape. It all started with one humble poppy seed pastry. 

This article first appeared in The Nosher.

(JTA) One of the main advantages for Jewish kids in a Christian world is that — thanks to Purim — they get two “Halloweens.” And for parents, it’s nice to get double use out of that overpriced probably-toxic-plastic monstrosity you rush-ordered from Amazon on October 28. More broadly, Purim celebrations are probably the most accessible entry point for getting the littles to associate Judaism with “fun.” Passover strains mightily to do this, and sometimes succeeds. Hanukkah succeeds, but at the price of sometimes becoming a sad Christmas knockoff. 

 Purim is just unlimited sweets, grown-ups making fools of themselves, and kids getting to be loud. Game over.

 But for anyone who actually reads the original “whole Megillah,” there’s a lot going on in there that’s very far from fun. And extremely far from “family-friendly.” Raging alcoholism. Domestic strife. Female exploitation. Genocidal antisemitism. Slaughter in the tens of 1,000s. Literal asphyxiation, 11 times over. 

 So how did that dark, telenovela-like book become the only Jewish holiday when we’d even think of having a “Carnival?”

 One reason is, Megillat Esther, or the Book of Esther, is famously the only book of the Bible where God is never mentioned. In a way, this frees up a spirit of irreverence, bordering on blasphemy. Purim stands apart from other, more theologically formulaic Jewish narrative holidays with its wild roller coaster narrative. And this briefly gives the religion of rules a refreshing “anything goes” vibe.

 Purim has also served some historical functions that give it a different flavor. For some, it’s a sly way to knock back down to earth the high and mighty. And/or a cathartic storyline to insert whatever villain is currently threatening the Jewish people. And finally, with its only halachic orders involving how to celebrate, Purim has been a great avenue for much-needed escapism.   

  But to get back to the story: How can it be so readily boiled down and leeched of its naughty adult parts? Perhaps because the basic tale is very simply hero and villain: an unlikely underdog girl gets to be royalty and fight and defeat a two-dimensionally cartoonish villain. It almost comes across as a Disney movie.

 All of which was apropos for me recently, because I’m a professional screenwriter who was actually hired to adapt the Purim story into a family-friendly film. I read the previous drafts — one where they adapted it so literally it would have been rated X, the next where they went to the other extreme and made it about Esther and her wacky talking animal friends. 

 I was the Goldberglocks asked to find the balance, and it was an interesting challenge. I had to find ways to make some of its barbarities more palatable — for example, reducing King Ahasuerus into an innocent, gullible dupe of Haman so he could be an actual love interest for Esther that we like, rather than what he actually was like. And I tried to bring a little silliness to Haman, so that his actual terrifying plans could be felt to be more ridiculous and unlikely.

 It didn’t hurt that I’d been producing and sometimes appearing in Purim spiels (staged, often riotously comedic re-stagings of the Book of Esther) for more than 20 years. I knew the story had so many unlikely twists and turns, hidden identities, incredible coincidences, it was an endless mine of possibility. 

 And I think, in a way, this is why it’s actually a good thing that Megillat Esther has been popularly boiled down to a kiddie-version. Because the main theme of the story, and holiday, “v’nahafoch hu” (Hebrew for “and it all got turned upside down”), is an extremely powerful Jewish idea that shines through it. Ever since the Golden Calf, we Jews have been trying to get the world to not take human-made institutions too seriously and reminding everyone that everything can change in a flash. As well as the idea that we live behind masks that hide our true selves.

 Kids may come to Purim celebrations dressed as everything from princesses to Pokemons, and not understand a word of that ancient thing being sung up on the bimah. But they see the big authority figures in their lives not taking themselves too seriously, the hallowed halls of their synagogue briefly turned into a free-for-all where hierarchy is temporarily abandoned. And, even when they know or intuit that Big Sad Adult Things Are Happening in the world, they feel powerfully how the Jewish people respond to, and survive, them: through unfettered joy and celebration of what we have, and our continued peoplehood.

 And that’s an even better value for that costume than getting to use it twice a year. 

Rob Kutner is an Emmy-winning comedy writer and author who has written for The Daily Show, CONAN, and Marvel. His comedic book of Jewish history The Jews: 5,000 Years and Counting (HINT: a perfect bar/bat mitzvah gift!) arrived last year just in time for Purim!

This article first appeared on Kveller.

Purim 2026

The festival of Purim begins this year on the evening of Monday, March 2 and runs through Tuesday, March 3.

Recounted in the Book of Esther, the holiday commemorates the saving of the Jewish people from annihilation at the hands of Haman. Purim is generally celebrated with joy, fun, and downright silliness. Carnivals, costumes, Purim spiels (skits or plays), Hamantaschen cookies, and for some, alcohol, all contribute to the holiday’s festivities.

Other Purim traditions include sending food gifts (mishloach manot) to friends and neighbors and giving to the poor (matanot l’evyonim).