The question of what will become of the uneaten matzo from our Seders is as much one of expectation as utility. Remember, please, that the Haggadah--the Jewish text used for the yearly Passover observance--refers to matzo as the "bread of affliction, the poor bread." We are forewarned, then--tasty, possible; delicious, unlikely. That said, I do like matzo, coated with good butter and topped with a dusting of kosher or sea salt, but it is nothing to get excited about, and for some, it is cause more for merriment than sustenance. An Internet search of the viable uses for leftover matzo reveals as many jokes as recipes (uses as grout or to paste cracked tiles competes with every variant on matzo brei or matzo kugel).
This strikes me as unfair. Matzo consists of nothing more than flour and water. It benefits from no fat, no seasoning, no leavening to free it from its earthbound density. It is also, in most cases, a generic and industrially produced commercial product. What do we expect? For those willing to work to procure it, a hand crafted, pleasingly round shmurah matzo (a simplified explanation of shmurah matzo: regular kosher-for-Passover matzo is produced under close rabbinical supervision that commences when the wheat is milled to flour; shmurah supervision begins at the harvest) is crisp, light, and the full equal of your better cheeses and other spreads. Eat it while it's fresh and leave the suggestions below to the standard matzo.
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