Passover in Short

Passover is another excuse for Jews to clean the crap out of their houses, gather, drink many bottles of red wine,  and eat copious amounts of food. We sit around the table with family, friends, and occasionally strangers to remember the hard history the Jewish people have gone through.

Our people were enslaved by Egyptians and Moses came and said some stuff and crazy stuff happened and we got away. However, in our escape we didn’t have time for our bread to bake properly so we carried the bread upon our backs and they never leavened. Hence Matzah/Matzo. Let me save you the hassle of trying this… stuff. You know saltine crackers? Take away the salt. Now imagine not having water to wash it down…but your mouth is already dry…you know that mushy feeling where it gets soft and impossible to swallow? Yeah.. that’s matzah. For 8 days (ish). Le sigh. Did I mention all of the other dietary restrictions for that week?

Anyway, some kids ask questions and we drink a lot of wine and we listen to the answers go on for a while. Then we sing in Hebrew and drink more wine. At some point we recall the 10 Plagues (extra wine if you remember them all in order!). We discuss the plate of food and all that is symbolizes. . . mostly the bitter herb…because we’re a bitter people. In case you hadn’t noticed, Jews have been getting the short end of the stick for thousands of years. (It’s worth it because we’re the Chosen People).

You think your Catholic mother can give a guilt trip? You haven’t met my grandmother. Seriously, the Jews are more stubborn than any group of people I have ever encountered. I got a tattoo of an Egyptian hieroglyph and when I showed my grandmother, her response was literally, “They Egyptians enslaved our People and you go and get a tattoo symbolizing Egypt??” ((First, Jews aren’t supposed to embellish their bodies in any way. Second, that was, like, thousands of years ago!))… I guess that’s why I’m always the ‘Wicked Child’. DAMNIT. (((((((for reference, the four children asking questions are Wise, Wicked, Simple, and the kid who doesn’t yet know how to ask questions)))))).

Anyway, wine is consumed, we recline to the left, we sing, we remember… as my family likes to put it: “We Fought, We Won, Let’s Eat!”

 ***Please don’t hate me for writing this, my uber-Jew friends!***

In the uber-religious seders, this is a very very long process. Literally, it doesn’t start until sundown and then it’s hours before you get to eat and then more hours of praying.

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Passover Prep: From a Teacher

How to Prepare for Passover dinner for Teachers abroad:

1. Create a mind-map/brainstorm of your meal. Remember to use specific details and examples of the ingredients you plan on using with each dish.

Passover Brainstorm

2. Turn the mind-map into an efficient grocery list outline. You do not need to make complete sentences. This is to help you organize your thoughts so your essay Passover dinner isn’t messy or offtrack. Is your dish an appetizer or main course? This is the chance to decide before you begin writing cooking.If something can be or needs to be refrigerated, this is the time to acknowledge it in your ‘notes’.

3. Use the grocery list outline to gather your ingredients.

4. Keeping your mind-map and outline nearby, you can begin to assemble your dishes. It maybe easier to start with the body of the essay more time consuming meals first.

5. Proofread for any spelling or grammar errors. Check your dishes before serving for presentation.

6. Serve with a health “We fought, we won, let’s eat!”

7. מועד טובֿ
מועדים לשמחה and חַג שָׂמֵחַ (those vowels are oddly placed)

What am I?

What am I?

I’ve been informed that I have what others call a “unique” look. Although my hair color changes as often as the weather, my features stay relatively the same. I am often asked “What are you?” The most often asked is Italian. While I may “look” Italian (i really dont think i do) the only thing Italian is my stomach’s soul.

On an average night at the casino, I get asked once what I am. And I make them guess until they realize they never will guess correctly.

On one particularly fun-filled evening, a gentleman (ha!) who I can only describe as “SHWASTED” decided to ask me that question.

 

Man: What are you?
Me: A Massage Therapist
Man: No, but what ARE you?

Me: Awesome?
Man: Are you Italian?
Me: Oh. Nope. Not Italian.
Man: Greek?
Me: Nope.
Man: Ukranian?
Me: What? No!
Man: Jewish?
Me: Jewish is not listed as a country, sir.

 

For future reference, I’m a New York South African from Florida. Unique, indeed.

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