It's Passover Again
Sun., April 24, 05:50 PM
My son came to visit this weekend, in celebration of Passover. I hadn’t planned on doing much for the holiday this year, because it just takes more energy than I have available. Enter Son on Friday night, carrying bags of groceries up and down from the basement, cleaning cabinets, washing dishes. We watched “NUMB3RS” together, and not long after I went to bed. Son was still working. (He’s compulsive that way.)
When I got up the next morning, he was sleeping on the living room floor. (I was glad I had vacuumed away the cat dander…) I didn’t waken him, just put on a pot of coffee. I found my Fosamax (which I had left out, but he neatened…) and went to do a half hour on the computer while I waited out the pill. I warmed my hands in hot water (no dishes in the sink!) and did my sugar, fed Cat. Son’s phone began yelling “I’ve got mail, yay, I’ve got mail,” so he decided to get up. How late had he worked? “Just leaving a clean slate for today,” he said.
So we got our breakfast, U.D. went out to do errands, and I began to cook. I cut up the chicken and started the soup. I set up the fat and skin to make “schmaltz” and “gribbens,” which are high in fat but undoubtedly among God’s treasures. I ran enough matzo through the food processor (works better for me than buying matzo meal) so I could make “knaidlach.” And I started a dish that I had seen on television, even though I didn’t make it the same way.
Jewish cooks fall into two categories – those who use shortcuts to sidestep the rituals and those who work their way around the constraints and get creative within the ritual. I am long past the days of making my own mayonnaise or preparing a chocolate bombe that is kosher for Passover. But this is one of those recipes where you use what you’ve got, no measuring beyond how it tastes. I could wing it.
The annoying woman on television began with broken matzo, which she moistened with chicken soup. (I used vegetable broth; I’ve got a vegetarian here.) She spiced it up with cumin and both hot and sweet paprika. (That wouldn’t fly here, if I were to offer it to Husband. I used a sort of grilling spice, just enough so that I could taste a little salt.) She put in some sautéed onions for flavor. Good. She added some shredded “thin-skinned squash.” They were what I call summer squash, and I used yellow ones because Son isn’t big on zucchini. It didn’t matter, since no one knew they were there. And you add a beaten egg so it will stick together, put it in a greased pan, and bake it for half an hour or so. It turned out very well, and I could offer it to anyone. And it’s flexible; as U.D. said, you could make it with spinach. Yes, and flavor it with a little nutmeg… I believe I will definitely be doing this one again.
[There was always a lot of discussion about what kind of oil we could use on Passover. Corn oil is not allowed. Planter’s peanut oil carries a rabbi’s seal of kosher for Passover, but peanuts are legumes. Lots of people won’t even use green beans during the holiday; it’s a matter of interpretation, but I don’t understand the logic on that. I’ve used safflower oil, which seems to be okay but comparatively expensive. And then I thought, so what if Mother never used it, olive oil is traditional. Unless, of course you’re using the schmaltz from the chicken.]
Anyhow, even without going through all the Seder rituals – because we were all running out of steam – we had what seemed like a traditional Passover supper. Gefilte fish with horseradish. Chicken soup with matzo balls and carrots. I had baked some chicken breasts and the new casserole, but no one was that hungry. I packed some up for Son to take home.
He cleaned my house, he helped me kasher my kitchen, he did some laundry. Son can do something I can’t do; he can look at stuff, evaluate it, and throw it out. (I have a problem with discarding someone else’s stuff.) He carried trash downstairs. And then he said, “thank you for making supper and giving me time with my family.” I am truly blessed.
Another bit of doggerel I found in my sporadic cleaning:
Although you’ll find our house a mess
Come in, sit down, converse
It doesn’t always look this bad
Some days it’s even worse.
I think I’ve quoted it before – somewhere. In various offices, where I’ve been the champion (or victim) of the need to multi-task, I used another motto. One supervisor, who thought it necessary to “help me,” got a surprise. (I always used to say, “don’t help me. I do know where everything is.”) At the bottom of a pile of papers was a small poster:
In my house, of course, it’s not just the multi-tasking. It’s the sheer poundage of junk that doesn’t belong to me. I can’t even find a place to put my own junk. (Ahem.) So I spend hours tossing stuff out or else putting it into boxes to be sorted at one’s leisure. In the midst of all this, I found a box of papers, etc., belonging to U.D., evidently collected during my last attempt at clearing up. Months ago.
All of this leaves me unbelievably tired, which I’m sure is mental rather than physical fatigue. There’s a lot of that going on here. Don’t even get me started on Husband and the mindset he requires…
Anyhow, in the middle of all this, I received a mail from my sister. Most of it was silly and irrelevant, but I loved this:
Is the sign of
A broken computer
Now that’s my kind of logic.
