Every year, I say I'm going to honor my half-Jewish ancestry and go kosher for Passover. And every year, I'm cranky within an hour, giving in to the nearest leavened bread product (last year, it was waffles).
The one way I know I'd be able to keep the kosher dream alive? If eating nothing but matzo all day long was a nutritionally stable option. There are matzo haters out there, and I get it. Matzo tastes like unsalted saltines, but I grew up on those oxymoronic crackers in my mother's attempt to pull a fast one on a family history of high blood pressure, so matzo doesn't bother me. It works perfectly fine for nut butter and jelly, avocado "toast" or as a platform for ice cream.
But the hands-down ultimate way to consume it is smothered in toffee and chocolate, aka "matzo crack," as it's lovingly (and accurately) called. All you have to do to nail this recipe is remember the number 1: 1 box of matzo; 1 cup each of butter, brown sugar, chocolate chips and toasted coconut; 1 life fulfilled by this treat. The only ingredient you probably want to use less than a cup of is the sea salt garnish—although that's one way to combat any blandness.
Start by placing a single layer of matzo on a parchment-lined pan. You may have to break some into pieces to fit them flush, but it's OK if there are holes—this just means the caramel will seep through and coat the bottom of the matzo as well (again, not a bad thing). Melt the butter and sugar (light or dark brown will do) in a saucepan until bubbling, then cook and whisk for 3 minutes. Pour the toffee over the matzo layer and spread it out quickly with an offset or rubber spatula before it begins to set. It'll be hard to resist sampling the butter-sugar goodness, but be careful not to touch the hot goop: This would be the demise of your finger's nerve endings.
Bake the matzo at 350° for 15 minutes, then sprinkle chocolate chips on top. Wait a few minutes until they start to melt, then spread them into an even layer, and toss the coconut and sea salt on top while the chocolate is still warm. (I like to add coconut for vindictive reasons, because it makes this an infinitely better twist on the strange Passover-friendly macaroons that I've always detested, but use any additional toppings you like, or let the toffee and chocolate shine on their own.) Let the tray set until everything has solidified (or speed up the process in the fridge), then break the matzo into pieces and at least try to share with your mishpocheh.
Unless the Manischewitz makers know something I don't, this snack doesn't really contain any illicit goods—but it's so addictive that it may as well. Because once you go crack, you'll never go back.
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