A blog, mostly about my work making Jewish ritual objects, but with detours into garment making, living in New York City, cooking, and other aspects of domestic life.
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Exotic Snack Food
I am really writing this post forthe three people I gave birth to. If I didn't give birth to you, you may continue reading.
When we travel with our kids one of our favorite activities is supermarket tourism. We love finding regional varieties of snack food. When our daughter went to China the first time she brought home a giant bag of Chinese versions of American snackfoods.
We went to the supermarket this afternoon. I chased down versions of chips that we don't see in New York.
I didn't purchase any of these fabulous products but might closer to our departure. The cheddar bacon mac and cheese seems to cover most of the salty and greasy categories. I did not check if they were kosher. One never knows.sometimes these seemingly Ur-treif snack foods are made completely with chemical flavors.
I have not seen this variety of Oreos before, but I also realize that I haven't seriously studied the contents of the cookie asile in a long time. The cheese and jalapeƱo rolls seem to be the Southern California version of a Bialy. I ate one at kiddush on Shabbat. This is something completely worth eating.
My husband hates garlic so my kids love to point out food filled with garlic just to get a rise out of him.
A few months ago I had a craving for my fatherās 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 fatherās. 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 canāt 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...
×Ö°× Ö¶×Ö±×Öø× ×Ö·×ŖÖ¼Öø× ×Ö°×Ö·×Ö²××Ö¹×Ŗ ×Öµ×ŖÖ“××: ×Ö¼Öø×Ø×Ö¼×Ö° ×Ö·×ŖÖ¼Öø× ×Ö°×Ö¹×Öø× ×Ö°×Ö·×Ö¼Öµ× ×Ö·×Ö¼Öµ×ŖÖ“×× 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...
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