We Survived Another Year
Sat., April 26, 05:15 PM
One of my buddies recently wrote that she was grateful she had “survived another Passover.” It is a festival, a time of rejoicing. That is a paradox, of course; it is a time to feast, but there a lot of foods that are prohibited.
It is also a lot of work. In these modern days, there are certainly some ways of reducing the workload. You can buy the products you need, often at greater expense. Some people decide to vacation for Passover; there are hotels that provide a seder and a week of kosher living. I would imagine they are not cheap. You can, as so many of us do, rewrite the rules to fit your household, or ignore them altogether.
In the days before convenience foods — especially those marked “kosher for Passover” — the housewife would set up a special corner of her kitchen, days or even weeks before, to start those foods that could not be prepared quickly. My mother told me that, when she was a child, they would start saving chicken fat right after Hanukkah, so that they would have enough. It takes a lot of chicken fat to make matzo dishes palatable!
From my own childhood I remember all the Passover stuff coming up from the cellar, bushel baskets full of dishes for meat and for dairy, along with the accompanying flatware, utensils, and pots and pans. There were special oilcloths for the table and wooden racks for the sink and drainer. Most of the everyday things went downstairs, except what would fit in Mother’s china closet, which she then locked with a key so that no one would absent-mindedly use a wrong plate. My father did all the heavy carrying when I was little; I believe he was the exception rather than the norm. Most men did not take part in the preparations.
Although everything had been carefully wrapped in newspaper the previous year, every piece had to be washed — by hand, naturally — because the cellar was really grimy. In years to come, when we moved into the larger house, the Passover stuff was kept in the attic. At the beginning of the holiday, everything went downward, from the attic to the kitchen or from the kitchen to the basement. When the holiday was over, the everyday stuff came back up to the kitchen and the Passover dishes went up to the attic. And someone got the bright idea to wrap the individual dishes in plastic wrap, so that the wholesale dishwashing was no longer necessary.
Gramma grew her own horseradish and grated it by hand. She would grate a beet into it to make it a little milder; nowadays, when you buy prepared horseradish, it just has a little beet juice added for color.
My mother made homemade gefilte fish, and I remember the accompanying hassle. We didn’t go to the fish market very often, but it was the only place that had the variety of fish that my mother needed. Preparing it was an all-day affair, from grinding the fish with onion and egg and shaping fish balls, to making a stock with vegetable and the bones and scraps, and simmering it for hours. Homemade gefilte fish is mostly fish, with a little matzo meal (crumbs) for binding; jar gefilte fish is fish-flavored matzo meal.
Knaidlach (matzo balls) were made in great quantities, not only to be used in soup but also browned and used as an extra starch with meat and vegetables. They are made with matzo meal and eggs, flavored with chicken fat and soup; so the soup — another hours-long task — had to be done first. Nowadays, when I make knaidlach, I use two or three eggs; I remember my mother breaking a dozen eggs for hers. And I use olive oil, so that vegetarians can eat them.
What did we eat when our favorite foods are off the menu and the fresh produce we now expect was not available? Think about it, no grain (except matzo, of course) and no legumes. (Although, for some reason, rabbis had marked peanut oil kosher for Passover.) You could always eat root vegetables — beets, carrots, potatoes. Some greens were available; I do remember spinach (overcooked). You might be able to get strawberries at a very high price, to go with some kind of cake made with matzo meal and maybe ground nuts. Yes, tree nuts were allowed. There was always dried fruit, which was made into a “compote.” My mother made a very tasty candy with carrots, walnuts, and ginger; it’s one of those things I would try to make, except that it’s mostly sugar.
Well, you know I don’t do most of those things now. Changing my dishes, a symbolic gesture, is just a matter of moving things around. The household consists of three people, all of whom have specialized diets of one type or another. (I insist I am not a short order cook!) But I do have a variety of fresh produce at hand. Fresh berries (with sour cream) for breakfast. Salad vegetables, with oil and vinegar. Yes, I made knaidlach and soup one night. I also made matzo brei, which is analogous to French toast. I changed the rules and made things easy on myself. Certainly, I am not about to make mayonnaise from scratch so that I know it’s kosher!
But I am sure that many of you understand being born with guilt. I remember vividly how hard they all worked — even me, sometimes. The back of my mind says, “this is the way it’s supposed to be done.” Thanks a lot, Mom!
