Welcome!

Last week my boyfriend and I went on vacation.

It just so happened that our vacation overlapped almost exactly with Chanukah, and as we were not in a flame friendly environment, we did not light a single candle or say any blessings. The closest thing we came to having a latke was hash browns with breakfast, and I had plenty of croissants and pieces of cake, and yet can not remember trying any donuts.

Although I am usually latke-d out by the second or third night, it seems strange that the holiday passed us by with so little recognition.

I did not give any of this much thought until the last day of our trip. I had exhausted all of my reading material, and decided to borrow a book from a friend.

Although I find deli tasty but not high on my list of favorite foods, I enjoyed David Sax’s book Save the Deli. After reading about Sax’s cross-country deli tasting extravaganza, I found myself pretty interested in finding a good corned beef sandwich. Once the craving passed, however, I realized that my thoughts were lingering on what might be the cornerstone idea of the book; namely, that many Jews rely upon food as their only tangible link to their religious and cultural history.

While I’m not sure that I want to start eating at delis as a way to retain my sense of Jewish identity, I have been thinking more and more about food and how it plays a role in my life. Both my boyfriend and I identify as Jewish, but are not currently observant. I attend services very infrequently, but have maintained a connection to the community through a rather ridiculous web of overlapping sources: Jew camp friends + hometown friends+ college friends+ friends who are both hometown and Jew camp friends+ friends of these friends.

When I get together with any of these friends, we eat. Sometimes we do some singing, sometimes we pray..but mostly, we eat.

Eating is a pretty big deal in this circle of Jewish friends, and plays a similar role in almost all family gatherings.

All of this thinking about friends and family and of course food has made me wonder about my own path forward. While I’m not (currently) interested in attending synagogue more often, I worry about what will happen if I miss too many holidays.

I let Chanukah pass me by with nary a latke in sight.

What were to happen if Passover passed me by (oh the puns that one opens up) without any gefilte fish or matzah?

Since I’m not interested in becoming a deli aficionado, I have decided to try another route.
My Bubbe (grandmother) currently lives in an independent living community in my hometown. When she moved into this apartment several years ago, she gave me almost all of her cookbooks. She stopped making homemade gefilte fish around the same time, and the homemade horseradish disappeared after my grandfather died 8 years ago.

In his deli book, Sax points out that many traditionally Jewish food items are disappearing off of menus, even if the restaurants themselves remain open. Other than kugel, gefilte fish and rugelach, I’m not sure I would even recognize many of these dishes.

My Bubbe’s recipes, however, have shown me a way forward (or it back?).

As I think about my own identity and ponder how this will impact my relationship and future family life, I will also be maintaining my own tangible link with Judaism through food.
This weekend I will rescue my Bubbe’s recipes from the bottom shelf of our baker’s rack and decide my plan of attack.

Despite the fact that I a) do not own a blender and b) do not wish to blend fish –I am going to find a way to return homemade gefilte fish to the seder this year.

Other goals to come!