Skip to main content

חסל סדור פסח

Well,  the getting ready part of Pesach is nearly over.  My freezer and fridge are packed to the gills with the food I have been preparing.

SAM_4092

I ground up the horseradish this morning amid much screaming in pain. Tonight’s matza balls are being loaded into the fridge by my son as I type these words.

The table cloths and doilies are all pressed. I am slightly crazed with exhaustion and will soon take a nap.

Our guests will start wandering in from various directions.

I wanted to say how before the destruction of the Temple, worship of God was done in a physical way. Yesterday’s Torah reading reminded me. You brought your cow or your sheep to the Temple, it got slaughtered hoisted up on the alter and cooked. Worship was less about words as it was about intentional hard physical  labor.

 

This prep time for Passover has been filled with much physical labor. I have been doing those labors in the spirit of our ancestors who di the hard work in Beit Ha Mikdash. Seeing the scrubbing and chopping and cleaning through that lens has allowed me to see the work as עבודה

not just as work but as a form of עבודת הלב.

As I have done this work over the past week I have had many thoughts of preparing for Passover with my parents.tbt 001

The traditional foods are cooked. The foods traditional to my family are cooked as well. After all, how can one celebrate the Exodus without lots of radish roses?

SAM_4097

The dishes and the table cloth in the photo above will be on my table. The memories and the melodies that I learned at that table in Quincy will be sung by people who experienced those sedarim and those who hadn’t.

For all of us who went through the labors, the עבודה of preparing enjoy our communal and personal liberation from slavery.

 

A sweet, sweet Pesach to everyone.

Comments

  1. I have resorted to using a gas mask for making horseradish. A sweet Pesach to you as well.

    ReplyDelete
  2. What a beautiful picture of your parents.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

I love hearing from my readers. I moderate comments to weed out bots.It may take a little while for your comment to appear.

Popular posts from this blog

מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים

  וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה לְהַחֲיוֹת מֵתִים: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים   You are faithful to restore the dead to life. Blessed are You, Adonoy, Resurrector of the dead. That particular line is recited at every single prayer service every day three times a day, unless you use a Reform or Reconstructionist prayer book . In those liturgies instead of praising God for resurrecting the dead God is praised for  giving life to all.  I am enough of a modern woman, a modern thinker, to not actually believe in the actual resurrection of the dead. I don't actually expect all of the residents of the Workmen's Circle section of  Mount Hebron cemetery in Queens to get up and get back to work at their sewing machines. I don't expect the young children buried here or  the babies buried here to one day get up and frolic. Yet, every single time I get up to lead services I say those words about the reanimating of the dead with every fiber of my being. Yesterday, I e...

Connecting with the past

A few months ago I had a craving for my father’s chicken fricassee.  If my father were still alive I would have called him up and he would have talked me through the process of making it.    My father is no longer alive so I turned to my cookbooks and the recipes I found for chicken fricassee were nothing at all like the stew of chicken necks, gizzards and wings in a watery sweet and sour tomato sauce that I enjoyed as a kid.  I assumed that the dish was an invention of my father’s. I then attempted to replicate the dish from my memory of it and failed.   A couple of weeks ago I saw an article on the internet, and I can’t remember where, that talked about Jewish fricassee  and it sounded an awful lot like the dish I was hankering after. This afternoon I went to the butcher and picked up all of the chicken elements of the dish, a couple of packages each of wings, necks and gizzards. My father never cooked directly from a cook book. He used to re...

Food friday - your grandmother's food processor

My grandmother bought my mother this wooden bowl and a chopping knife, known in Yiddish as a hock-messer, soon after my parents got married. Yes, she also got them a dairy set as well. these wooden bowls and chopping knives were a big part of food prep when I was growing up. meatloaf and meat balls were mixed in this bowl. Chopped liver was made in this bowl as well. Sundays we often made chicken salad for lunch made out of chicken left over from Shabbat chopped with vegetables and mayo. That too, was made in this bowl. When I was in college my parents got their first food processor and the chopping bowls were not used as much. Several years ago, my father asked if i would like the bowls and the hock-messers. I was happy to have them. I like the sheer physicality of chopping up a big bowl of stuff into teeny pieces. While the wooden bowls have stood up well to the years of use, the hock-messers had not. The bladed which were bolted into their handles, wobbled. The blades wouldn't ...