Daniel Tzibl’s Schmaltz Recipe

The Jewish Stage

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Schmaltz is back. After decades of being cast aside for vegetable oils, people are returning to traditional animal fats—and for good reason. Schmaltz isn’t just about nostalgia; it’s rich, deeply satisfying, and, as it turns out, healthier than we were led to believe. Our grandmothers knew what they were doing.

A staple of Ashkenazi Jewish cooking for centuries, schmaltz—rendered chicken or goose fat—was prized for its flavor and versatility. Traditionally made by slowly melting chicken skin and fat with onions, it was used for frying, baking, and even spread on bread before vegetable oils took over. Now, as people embrace whole, nutrient-dense foods, schmaltz is making a well-deserved comeback—not just for its taste but for its deep culinary and cultural roots.

Broadway was another highlight of mine growing up. As a teenager, I played cast recordings on repeat, captivated by sweeping melodies and sharp lyrics. Many of the songs that shaped American musical theater were written by Jewish composers—stories of longing, resilience, and humor woven into every note. Their work didn’t just define Broadway; it became part of the American songbook.

In this interview, Daniel Tzibl brings these two worlds—Jewish food and Jewish theater—together. Whether you’re here for the schmaltz or the show tunes, there’s plenty to savor.

Added plus - this recipe is perfect with matza!

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To start, introduce yourself to our readers. Tell us about what you do—both professionally and for fun. What keeps you grounded, creatively inspired, and mentally and spiritually balanced?

I’m an actor (if I’m lucky), a writer, and occasionally a drama teacher. I’ve performed in theatres across Ontario and co-written four theatre pieces—two of which (Gay For Pay With Blake & Clay and Blake & Clay’s Gay Agenda) are available wherever fine books are sold.

I’m not sure what fun is anymore, but I’m a huge culture nerd. I’m always reading or working my way through the filmography of a director or character actress I love. If I’m at all grounded and inspired (which, spoiler alert, I’m mostly not), it’s through my emotional connection to the art I love.

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Broadway has deep Jewish roots. Many of the most influential figures in American theatre—Rodgers and Hammerstein, Irving Berlin, Stephen Sondheim—were Jewish. From your perspective, how has Jewish culture and history shaped Broadway and the theatre world more broadly?

Jewish artists, composers, and producers have played a foundational role in shaping Broadway, much like in Hollywood. The golden age composers—Rodgers and Hammerstein, Leonard Bernstein, Jule Styne, Frank Loesser, the Gershwins, Kander and Ebb, Bock and Harnick, Harold Rome, Charles Strouse, Jerry Herman (pretty much anyone who wasn’t Cole Porter, really)—rarely wrote explicitly Jewish musicals. There are exceptions (Fiddler on the Roof, The Rothschilds, Milk and Honey, Funny Girl, I Can Get It for You Wholesale), but Broadway wasn’t overflowing with Jewish themes.

This reflects the Jewish struggle to assimilate. Even as Broadway’s audience—especially in the postwar era—was largely Jewish, patronage and support for the arts became a key Jewish value. Organizations like Hadassah and B’nai Brith would buy out performances, making Broadway as much a Jewish communal space as a cultural one.

But even when the stories weren’t explicitly Jewish, Jewish themes ran deep. Take Rodgers and Hammerstein: their musicals—Oklahoma!, Carousel, The King & I, South Pacific—explore close-knit communities struggling with assimilation and the fear of outsiders. That’s an inherently Jewish tension.

Then there’s Sondheim. A protégé of Oscar Hammerstein, he took introspection to Freudian levels. His characters stop time to look inward, questioning themselves in ways that feel profoundly Jewish. Into the Woods was my gateway drug to musical theatre, and I see its characters grappling with self-examination in ways that remind me of Yom Kippur.

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Jewish humor has long been intertwined with Jewish trauma. From early vaudeville to Mel Brooks and The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, comedy has often been a way to process hardship. How do you see this tradition evolving today? How do you engage with it in your own work?

Mel Brooks movies got me through the first few weeks after October 7. They’re even more Jewish—and angrier—than I remembered. The Producers, in particular, seethes with rage at exclusion. Bialystock and Bloom are outcasts desperate to belong, mirroring how Holocaust survivors built new lives in North America, creating spaces where they could thrive.

Jewish comedy isn’t just about processing trauma—it’s about channeling our anger at not belonging. I’m bracing for an onslaught of Jewish voices responding to this unbearable moment. We’re still emerging from grief and shock, but the reckoning is coming.

Personally, I’ve always written about my Jewishness in a cutesy, Adam Sandler-y way. But now? That’s the subject. It’s all I think about. I suspect a lot of Jewish artists feel the same.

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Wearable Judaica is making a comeback—hamsa necklaces, Hebrew-letter rings, and other visible symbols of Jewish identity. What do you make of this trend? Do you see it as part of a larger cultural shift?

I love it. We want to be visible, to take up space. That moment of recognition when you pass a stranger wearing a chai or a Magen David—it’s a breath of fresh air for those of us living outside Jewish enclaves.

Is it a permanent cultural shift? I hope so. As for myself, I want a big, heavy, Flava Flav–level Magen David. Maybe it can spin. Something that wouldn’t look out of place nestled in Elliott Gould’s chest hair in 1974. Let’s call it a return to Jewish Maximalism.

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Jewish Theatre Inspiration: If you could stage a play about one moment in Jewish history, what would it be and why?

A backstage drama about the original production of Funny Girl.

It was chaos. Originally conceived for Mary Martin (yes, really), then pitched to Anne Bancroft, the show didn’t come together until Barbra Streisand arrived. Even then, nothing worked. Jerome Robbins and Bob Fosse were called in to fix it. Streisand and her co-star, Sidney Chaplin, barely spoke offstage. The final scene was rewritten while the audience was filing in on opening night.

And then? Barbra became Barbra. A sensation. Meanwhile, her understudy, Lainie Kazan, went on twice, got a good review—and Barbra made sure she never went on again.

Of course, this would require casting a new Fanny Brice, and given how that went last time, maybe it’s best to leave it alone.

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Now, let’s talk food! You’re sharing a recipe for Tzibl and Schmaltz, a dish passed down from your grandmother. What’s the history behind this dish, and what does it mean to you personally?

My grandmother would make this from the discarded boiled chicken from her soup, and my mother and I will still make this today.

Tzibl is Yiddish for onions, and Schmaltz is Yiddish for animal fat, but in this case refers to the chicken in the recipe. No one is quite sure from where this recipe originates. Even though it’s not strictly a Pesach recipe, it’s best eaten with a slice of Matzo.

Like the best of Jewish food, it’s fatty, smells strong, and is absolutely addictive. And for me, it’s instant nostalgia, with the first bite taking me back a few decades to my grandmother’s kitchen. It’s never been written down, but here it is.

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Tzibl and Schmaltz Recipe

Category: Meat
Prep time: 10 minutes
Cook time: 35 minutes
Total time: 45 minutes
Yield: Enough to satisfy your craving

Ingredients

• 3 to 4 cups of shredded boiled chicken (use a whole bone-in, skin-on chicken or about 2 to 3 pounds of bone-in chicken parts, including a chicken back for extra richness)

• 1 large yellow onion

• Oil

• 4-6 hard-boiled eggs

• Salt and pepper

• Matzo
  
  

Instructions

1. Separate the chicken from the bones and shred it with two forks.

2. Chop the onion. Fry about ⅔ of it in oil on low heat until caramelized (25-30 minutes).

3. Hard-boil the eggs, peel, and coarsely chop.

4. In a large bowl, mix the shredded chicken, hard-boiled eggs, caramelized onions, and raw onions.

5. Season liberally with salt and pepper. Serve with matzo.
   

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How to Boil a Chicken:

1. Prepare the Chicken: If using a whole chicken, remove any excess fat or giblets from the cavity. If you're using chicken parts, just make sure they are clean and ready to go.
   

2. Place in a Pot: Place the whole chicken or chicken parts in a large pot. Add enough water to fully submerge the chicken.
   

3. Season: Add aromatics such as 1 onion (quartered), 2-3 garlic cloves (crushed), 1-2 carrots, and 1-2 celery stalks. You can also add herbs like parsley, thyme, or bay leaves for flavor. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
   

4. Bring to a Boil: Turn the heat to high and bring the water to a boil.
   

5. Simmer: Once boiling, reduce the heat to low and simmer uncovered for about 1 to 1.5 hours. Skim off any foam or impurities that rise to the surface during the first 30 minutes of cooking.
   

6. Check for Doneness: The chicken should be fully cooked through and tender. If you're using a whole chicken, the internal temperature should reach 165°F (75°C).
   

7. Remove the Chicken: Once done, remove the chicken from the pot. Let it cool slightly before shredding the meat off the bones.

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   I hope you enjoyed this interview with Daniel and his grandmother’s recipe!

   If you have a special recipe from your grandmother or grandfather that you'd like to share with our community, email me at hello@jewishfoodhero.com.

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