Remembering Passovers
Fri., April 29, 11:01 AM
I’m thinking about Passover again, since it’s still here, although the flurry of preparation is over. I’m remembering the first holidays after we got married, and I feel as if I’m starting all over again. Way back then, we always went to my parents for the Seder, but that was pretty much it. (I just remembered that the very first family occasion that Husband attended – even before we were engaged – was a Seder.)
I must have bought some matzo that first year, but I didn’t do much else. I was in the misery of my first pregnancy, and most food wasn’t staying down anyhow. The second year I went through the motions, but with an infant as my first priority, I wasn’t interested in kitcheny stuff. The year after that I had a sick newborn. And that’s the way it went for a while. The nice thing about Judaism – at least in my interpretation – is that you can always start again; you are not going to hell because you missed something.
No matter. For the next thirty years or so, I did more every year. We went to my parents’ until after my dad died, but I made a second Seder every year. Occasionally the kids brought their friends to see what a Seder was like. It was second only to Thanksgiving in its importance. The kids grew up, often traveling for the spring holidays, and still I made some sort of Seder. (Without little kids to tutor, Son and I could do the ritual in record time.)
Until last year. With the fatigue brought on by chemotherapy, I simply could not put together a Seder. Son offered to do one at his home, but I am no longer able to shepherd Husband through the trip. The other option would have been to leave him home and go alone. Although I might have enjoyed it, it seems contrary to the spirit of the occasion. So I made chicken soup one night and “fried matz’ ” another and that was it.
Now I feel much as I did in those first years I was married. I’m working up to it. Not only did I cook, but Husband’s seems to have more appetite. (Or is that just because he’s not getting the junk food he prefers?)
Matzo brei – what Husband calls fried matz’ – is one of those traditional methods of trying to make a palatable dish out of hemstitched cardboard. You break up the matzo, soften it with a little water, mix it with eggs and milk, and fry it. It’s the pesachdich version of French toast. My mother served it with salt and pepper, but some people sprinkle sugar on it (with or without cinnamon). Husband likes it with grape jam.
When Husband was still a more active person, fried matz’ was one of his “specialties.” He used to take huge quantities of matzo – maybe a whole pound – and pour hot water in it. Then he would squeeze it into a pulp. He fried it in my big electric fry pan, making enough for at least ten people. There were only five of us, but he liked leftovers. I ate as little as I could, just enough so his feelings weren’t hurt. Last night I made it the traditional way, in which you can still distinguish the pieces; he doesn’t seem to know the difference. I only used a medium-sized pan, but he’s got leftovers for tonight.
I used to modify my meatloaf recipe for Passover, but it’s not worth doing now. (Two people with reduced capacity and one vegetarian...) However, I can and will make a simplified beef stew. Cut a cheap steak into cubes and brown it; add some onions. I think I have some fresh vegetables, but I’ve done this with canned potatoes and carrots. Canned beef broth enhances the flavor. He will eat some of that.
I think I had an easier time thinking up menus for babies than I do for the senior. Husband is still the senior, even if I’m just about there myself.
