Delicious, Quick, and Easy Coconut Cookies - Gluten Free

I'm so pregnant I'm ready to pop, so Passover this year was pretty low-key. But my one crowning achievement was this recipe, which was based on another recipe, but honestly I didn't have enough coconut and I thought it had way too much sugar and I was missing one of the ingredients. So I took a swing and it was a huge home run with the family. Ready?

Ingredients

• 1 bag Trader Joe's Unsweetened Flake Coconut (8 oz)
• 2 egg whites
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/2 tsp vanilla (or almond extract)
• 1/4 tsp salt (not the table variety)
• 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Prep two cookie sheets with parchment.
2. Mix the first five ingredients in a bowl. Let it sit for 5 minutes.
3. Give it a good mix and add in the chocolate chips. 
4. Pop on some gloves and start gathering roughly 1/4 cup of "cookie dough" in your hands. Squish the mixture together in your hands to create a mound and pop it on the cookie tray.
5. Push it down just a bit. 
6. Continue with the rest of the dough. 
7. Bake for about 12 minutes, then switch the sheets and bake another 6 minutes until the edges and tops are browning. 
8. Take out of the oven and let cool completely. They'll harden and be crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside. 

Enjoy!

Review: Perfect for Pesach Cookbook

The first time I ever really observed Pesach in a remotely legit way was in 2008 when I was living in a shoebox in Buena Park in Chicago. I was going to Anshe Emet and the rabbi talked me into one of my most memorable seders ever (read about the seder here), and I was there until 2 a.m. It was also the first time I ever made fish (no kidding) in my life, and I made this recipe for Sephardic Spicy Fish. I made it with salmon, and it was amazing.

I continue to make this recipe every Pesach, as a reminder of that fateful Pesach, just weeks after I first set foot in an Orthodox shul and committed myself to converting under Orthodox auspices. I can't believe that was nine years ago. It feels like a lifetime ago. It's also amazing that the very next year I was in Florida celebrating Pesach in the most stereotypical way possible in a gated community with a family that I so loved (my ex-husband's). After that, my Pesach experiences were sort of here, there, and quite literally everywhere:

• 2008: Chicago
• 2009: Florida
• 2010: Florida
• 2011: Monsey, NY
• 2012: Denver
• 2013: England
• 2014: Israel
• 2015: Denver
• 2016: Denver
• 2017: Denver ... just the two of us!

I've spent Pesach on several continents with so many different families. This year? It'll be just the two of us for the seders, with kids fast asleep. It'll be fun, but quiet, but fun, but quiet. I was racking my brain as to what to make, honestly for the entire week, because in my mind, I just think: quinoa and vegetables. Quinoa bake. Spaghetti Squash bake. Bake all the things! But then ... then I got this cookbook for review: Perfect for Pesach: Passover recipes you'll want to make all year by Naomi Nachman. 

I'm not even kidding you ... the moment I got this (its squishy cover and all) and got a few pages in, I went out and bought a crepe pan. Crepes, people. Crepes on Pesach. I've never made a crepe in my life, but I saw Naomi's recipe for Passover egg rolls using said crepes, and I was all like ...

You can bet that there will be an evening of delicious Asian cuisine, including these Mock Sesame Noodles (genius!). 

Do you know why you need this cookbook? Here's a list of some of the recipes that will blow your mind: 

• Fish 'n' Chips
• Sweet & Sour Tilapia
• Quinoa Granola
• Ricotta Pancakes
• Vanilla Cupcakes (with pudding!)
• Fudgy Chocolate Bundt Cake with Coffee Glaze
• ... and more.

Seriously, folks, I'm using only one cookbook this Pesach. Perfect for Pesach.  Because it has pictures with every recipe, and that's my kind of cookbook. And I'm a lazy cook when it comes to Pesach. I don't want to stress, and I want to use fresh ingredients and as few ingredients as possible to guarantee quick, tasty food. 

When your kids are at home all week, who has time for elaborate substitutions and a dozen ingredients just to make one dish? Not me. That's who.

Will you be picking up this Passover cookbook? You should. You really, really must. 

It's Passover Again, and I've got PTSD

Oh Passover. After last year's miscarriage three days before Passover and breaking my foot walking to the first-night seder (and not realizing it was broken for the first two days, so walking around on it), I think that I've got Passover PTSD.

Yes, for the first time in my Jewish life, I'm responsible for the Passover seder. Since we're in the U.S., that's two nights of seders, folks.

Note: The seder is the festive Passover meal that begins with a lengthy retelling of the Israelite Exodus from Egypt and the miracles therein. Jews use a haggadah (a book of sorts) to retell the Passover story. There are certain foods you're required to eat during the retelling, and by the time the meal actually arrives, many people are all full up on salt water and parsley and lettuce and wine and, of course, matzah. 

Theoretically we could have gone out the first night, but the reality is that because of that extra month (yes, it's a Jewish leap year), Passover is starting crazy late now and Asher is a creature of habit that I cannot and will not mess with. So the seder starts after bedtime and the Ash man will be fast asleep for mommy's sanity. For the second night, we're having a couple over, and it's what I'm calling the "make up for the first night seder with just the two of us where I fall asleep at the table with a face full of gefilte fish" seder. Yes, the first night it's just the two of us, and my husband has a glowing spirit that is full of stories and singing and ... seder is his jam. I'll let you know how the "just the two of us" seder goes, but I have a feeling it's going to be super disappointing for him. I wish I could pull a couch up to the table.

So the PTSD. There was a giant kitchen fiasco last night that left three dishes I'd made in the "dairy" category because I used real butter, and before you say, "Wait, don't you have a vegetarian house?" the reality is that yes, we're vegetarian, so normally it's not an issue, but we have a guest coming whose custom it is to have meat on seder night, so I acquiesced and ... disaster. Now, the meat seder we're having is slim pickings on food, and that just is what it is and it will be what it will be. Add to that being super preggers and having several jobs and having terribly swollen feet and a toddler running around and a husband who works at the kosher deli (busiest time of year) and who is responsible for fixing the local eruv (thanks, fluke snowstorm last week that tore it down in 17 different places and required 6 hours of fixing today) ... and I broke down last night.

I cried. I was overwhelmed and exhausted and I lost my #@$*. I know, I know. Stress isn't good for the baby. Over exertion isn't good for the baby.

So I think I've finally come to terms with the reality that Passover is just a few hours a way, and it just is what it is. My table isn't set, and as I watch friends post pictures of their beautiful Passover tables with real dishes and real silverware and real glasses I feel kind of lame. I'm 32 years old and don't have Passover stuff. But it's my first time hosting, actually needing those things. In my last marriage and in this marriage, I've always happened to be out or away or just not at home for the seders, let alone the rest of the week.

Someday I'll be a Jewish adult woman with actual stuff for Passover. Someday ...

Anyway, as I come to terms with Passover, I'm also starting to get excited about Shavuot. It's not just because I love cheesecake, but it's because it's my favorite holiday, as it's what I call the "convert's holiday" because Jews read the Book of Ruth. Man I love Shavuot. I loved it even more when I got to stay up all night and teach. Unfortunately, The Blob is showing up on the eve of Shavuot, so who knows how it's going to go down this year. Either way, here's a good read to prep you for Shavuot.

And now? Maybe I should get the toddler-in-a-diaper next to me in the bath and set the seder table, eh? I can't wait for the gefilte fish. And I'm not even kidding.

Getting Ready for Shavuot Through Ruth

I've been seriously slacking when it comes to reading lately, mostly because when Ash sleeps on Shabbat (my exclusive reading time), I tend to nap, too. It's lonely in a quiet house, so sleeping passes the time. That being said, I've both purchased and received gobs of books over the past several months, received for review, purchased for pleasure (Jab, Jab, Jab, Right Hook by Gary Vaynerchuk and Tea: History, Terroirs, Varieties Second Edition).

For review, I've received quite a few stellar picks, among them two selections from the Maggid Studies in Tanakh on the books of Joshua and Ruth. Although I haven't delved deeply and passionately into the two of them yet, I have poked around Ruth: From Alienation to Monarchy by Yael Ziegler. I swear, every time I open the book the page I land on is full of poignant, relevant goodies. These books are very much written in an academic style, and I imagine had I stayed in the world of Judaic Studies, this is the kind of book I would have written someday about Rachav (can't wait to get deeply involved in the Joshua book for this very reason). 

A few weeks back, during Passover, I happened upon a discussion of Ruth -- a convert, perhaps the convert of Judaism -- being a devukah, which the author describes as the "act of cleaving to another ... the very opposite of selfishness." It essentially is the perfect type of relationship, it is the relationship that Ruth shares with Naomi, with Boaz, and it is how the relationship of husband and wife is meant to be, just as it is with man and HaShem. It got me thinking about my own relationships, with HaShem and with my own husband. Am I, like Ruth, a devukah? Or am I relying too much on myself? Not out of selfishness, but out of the stubborn belief that I can do and be it all. Nearly seven months have passed and I have maintained a home, raised a child, and survived the ups and downs and injuries and pains -- on my own. Yes, I've had the support of family, friends, and my husband, but by and large, I've powered through this all upon my own shoulders. That, friends, is not being a devukah. 

Then, just yesterday over Shabbat, I opened up to a section about Boaz referring to Ruth as an eishet chayil ("a woman of valor"). I had zero clue where this song/poem that Jews the world over recite every Friday evening sings of the only woman in the entire Tanakh to be accorded such a title. Mr. T recently spent hours making me a paper cut of this very song/poem and sent it for our anniversary in February, a special, painstakingly created gift of something that holds a bit of a tenuous history with me. I've gone nearly seven months without hearing the words sung by my husband, and it breaks my heart every Friday night to skip over it, but who wants to sing a song about a woman of valor to herself? 

To know that Ruth, a convert like me, is a face and name behind eishet chayil, is incredibly powerful. To know that hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of Jews around the world sing a song merited by Ruth fills me with a sense of pride -- and responsibility. 

These lessons and thoughts are hyper relevant right now. Why? Ruth is read during Shavuot, which is the holiday that is coming up after the 49 days of the omer that we're in the midst of counting right now. These weeks leading from Passover to Shavuot are intense, meaningful, and meant as preparation for the giving of the Torah. 

I can't wait to read more in this intensely fascinating and well-written book. It's thoughtful, pulling from both academic and midrashic texts. It's perfectly balanced and, without a doubt, the perfect addition to my library!

Time to Craft Your Shlissel Challah!

A Beautiful Shlissel Challah by Mandy D.

I love sharing little-known customs in Judaism, even those that I don't necessarily practice myself. I'll admit that if Mr. T were around I'd probably bake up a delicious, beautiful shlissel challah this Shabbat, but since it's just the little one and I and it's snowing in Denver, chances are I'll use my molds for some easy gluten-free challah. 

Just what is shlissel challah? 

For the first Shabbat after Passover, it's common in some circles to bake a challah either in the shape of a key or with an actual key baked inside -- shissel being Yiddish for "key." The custom is considered a good omen for livelihood, or parnassa!

I've got a whole article on it over on About.com's Judaism page. Check out the origins, possible ties to Christianity, and recipes, too. 

Take me to the shlissel challah!

An Unfortunate Fall and Passover Through the Years

We're in the midst of Passover and I'd like to wish you all a moadim l'simcha! It's been an interesting week, but really, seriously, when isn't it interesting?

In a nutshell, I was walking to a Passover seder on Friday night and while simply walking down the sidewalk pushing the buggy something happened and I broke my foot (fifth metatarsal fracture/Jones fracture). Yay!

There was a dramatic moment where Asher's stroller started rolling into oncoming traffic, which is why I don't remember what happened during the fall, but let's just say I didn't think I'd broken anything. I thought, maybe I sprained my ankle or pulled something. I spent the first two days of Passover hobbling around in the homes of two amazing friends, with them carrying Ash up and down stairs yelling at me to stop getting up. I can't help it. I'm not a sit-down-and-rest kind of person. I'm super freaking woman!

So for now, after two visits to two different ERs, I'm in a boot. An irritating boot that I'm sleeping in (doctor's advice). I have an orthopedic appointment on Monday, and that's when I'll find out whether I'm sticking to the boot (please G-d) or going the cast route (please G-d no I can't be that immobile for six weeks without another parent or family around).

In other news, I was reflecting on so many Passovers over the years, trying to plot where I was and what I was up to. It's easy for me to look back on the blog, of course, as I've documented most of them since my Reform conversion back in April 2006. Let's take a gander:

• 2004-2005 (Nebraska): Evidently I went to a few seders during this time. I really don't remember with whom or where, however. 
• 2006 (Nebraska): I actually hadn't had my conversion yet when Passover rolled around. I spent the first night seder with the other handful of Jews at UNL in Seaton Hall for a very heavily pre-packaged seder experience (jellied gefilte, folks). For second night, I distinctly remember going up to Omaha to a very large synagogue (was it Conservative? Reform?) for a big seder. I don't remember much about the seder itself, but I do remember feeling like it was something I'd been doing for years. 
• 2007 (Chicago): It was probably my worst Passover, spent at a mega (Reform) shul community sederin Lakeview. Worst.
• 2008 (Chicago): A lot changed between 2007 and 2008. I had really started assessing where I was Jewishly, and it led me to an Orthodox synagogue just weeks before Passover. With the flip of a switch, I was set for a seder thanks to the rabbi, and it was probably one of the best, most memorable seders I've ever had. I'm guessing it's because it was the first 'real' seder experience I'd ever had. This was around the time that I was launched face first into the world of Orthodox Judaism and my current home religiously.
• 2009 (Florida): Yes, I got the obligatory "go away for Passover" experience when I schlepped to Florida for the first days of the holiday. Honestly, I look back on my Florida Passover adventures with a lot of fondness and happiness (my former in-laws are some very special people). This year we weren't super observant and made our way out to a Dunkin Donuts to get some chol ha'moed (middle days) coffee and visit the beach. It was pretty amazing. 
• 2010 (Florida): We were back in Florida. I didn't write about it, but I distinctly remember hanging out by the pool watching Jewish people enjoy the grilled burgers on ... hamburger buns! Happy Passover?
• 2011 (Monsey, NY): Funny story ... I totally forgot my ex and I were in Monsey, NY, for the seders. How did I forget that? We were with some pretty awesome cousins, and Monsey is always a trip. 
• 2012 (Denver): I'll never forget this Passover because it involved a turning point in my life that was pretty terrible when I was in the midst of it. I came out of this Passover with some big decisions, major betrayals, and a new perspective on needing to change my trajectory. The result? Applying for aliyah just a few months later. 
• 2013 (Edgware, England): One of my most favorite Passover experiences, I was in England just a short time after getting hitched to Mr. T. We traveled around London, me getting to do my touristy things, while schlepping cheese and matzah along the way. We had family sederim and rested in the comfort of each other's company. It was pretty amazing.
• 2014 (Neve Daniel, Israel): This was a bittersweet Passover because our entire apartment was packed up and on its way to the U.S. We had an amazing seder with our upstairs neighbors with a fairly newborn Asher who would. not. fall. asleep. I learned my lesson from that seder experience by putting him to bed before the seders this year, of course. 

These are Passover nachos! Just toss some (GF) matzah with olive oil
and salt, bake at 400 F for 5-10 minutes. Top as you see fit. Nosh!

And this year? Well, you've already heard a bit about this year. Two seders at the homes of two friends around the corner from each other here in Denver. The first night, I used the Rabbi Sacks haggadah, because that's what Mr. T was using in the U.K. and it gave me a minor connection to my husband. It went late, but it was fun and cozy. The second night, it was a raucous and exciting seder chock full of laughs, delicious food, and a fun drinking game. Both nights Asher was tucked away in a pack 'n' play nice and early and I got to feel like an adult for a few hours. 

Mr. T was busy working a Passover hotel by the shore in England, and he's heading off to Israel on Monday to prep for his immigration interview and take care of some last-minute copies and things he needs for the interview. I'm hoping that, considering my current circumstances with the foot and all, maybe they can bump the meeting a little sooner. Your prayers are always welcomed!

Back to entertaining the little one. It's been an interesting week with him off of daycare and me with a broken foot :) All I can say is thank G-d for Instacart! 

Good News, Better News

I've had a surprisingly uplifting few weeks. Even spending all day shopping and cleaning the apartment for Passover couldn't get me down. You're probably wondering why I turned my house over for Passover so early, right? Okay, let's start at the beginning. 

The Good News: I got an unexpected email last week from someone I'd been speaking with about a job opportunity back in November. The talks back then stalled and I was told they'd be hiring in mid-2015, so I took a job at The Jewish Experience and life plodded on. So the unexpected email came at a time when I needed a bit of a lift up. Finances have been really hard, life has been hard, everything has been impossible, but I've been doing it because I have no choice. In the span of a week, I talked to several people, and on Friday got the official job offer. 

I couldn't, absolutely couldn't, turn it down. 

I'll tell you all more about the job once I actually start it after Passover, but let me just say it's going to be exciting and it's going to give me the flexibility I need as a powerhouse working mother and the career boost I've been waiting for my entire career. 

The job has me trekking out to California on Sunday/Monday to meet the team and get jazzed about the awesome things coming, hence why I turned the house over for Passover today. I won't have Sunday, there's no daycare next Thursday, so ... there we are. Two weeks of matzah! Yay!

The Better News: I woke up to an email from my mother-in-law, which sent me into a tizzy searching my email inbox for ... yes ... a notice from the National Visa Center that they finally got around to looking at our paperwork, everything is in order, and Mr. T has an interview scheduled for May 15 in Jerusalem!

I'm going to pretend it was me sending an email every week for the past month reminding them that they received the revised paperwork on February 24 at 12:34 p.m. and it was signed for by ... you get the idea. I hope my nudging actually worked. Nothing else seemed to work (we were denied an expedite twice). 

So. Yay! Theoretically, from everything I've read, once the interview is complete they let him know on the spot whether he's been approved or denied. If he's approved, the process of getting the physical visa is quick. 

Please, please, please pray for a Shavuot reunion for us. On Shavuot, HaShem gave us the Torah. I pray that this year, for Shavuot, he'll give me my husband back. 

I want to thank everyone for the constant support, the kindness, the love, the understanding. The cheerleaders have gotten me through this madness, and I know you'll continue to get me through. I also want to thank the haters and the trolls for representing everything about myself that I could hate and complain about if I had the energy or time. The haters and trolls are the personal slam book that I've never had to write or open. Thank you for that. 

Giveaway: Treat Yourself to a JORD Wood Watch!

For some, an important preparation point for Passover goes beyond buying enough wine and getting the right matzah to purchasing something nice -- a new dress, scarf, piece of jewelry, hat -- for the lengthy holiday.

Although it can be a point of contention (I crowdsourced a religious Jewish women's group on Facebook and got some pretty rough responses), in my experience it's a common practice to prep for Passover (or any major Jewish holiday) by doing something special to really ignite the special quality and holiness of the day.

In my world, this usually means buying a special scarf or something similar within my means, but this year, oh this year I got lucky and you have a chance to, as well.

The impressive folks behind the JORD Wood Watches contacted me about a review and a giveaway, and usually I would decline because of relevance to the blog, but I realized that Passover is fewer than 50 days away and people are in prep mode already. That's fewer than two months folks.

Have you even considered what your seder will look like? Have you thought about which haggadah you'll be using?

Well, I'm here so you have the option of kicking back a bit and not having to think about the stressful parts of Passover but being able to focus on something lighter that could bring some light to your holiday.

I requested the Ely - Black JORD Wood Watch, because, well, come on now, it's beautiful. I'd never actually seen, worn, or purchased a wood watch before, because I had no idea it was even a thing. I've been a loyal Swatch wearer for years, but I've been converted. And you know my commitment: I'm honest in my product and book reviews. Outside of receiving the product free, I'm not getting paid for this review.

This watch is light-weight (it's wood after all) but substantial on the wrist. The Ely in black is one of the classiest watches to ever grace my wrists; it's the kind of watch I'll be wearing to The Jewish Experience's Annual Gala Event this month but also will wear day to day to work. The versatility is key -- wood seems simplistic, but the finish and design are what take it up a notch.

So here I am, offering you the chance to win a JORD Wood Watch, which is a $129 value with free shipping. You get to pick out your own watch if you win -- for you, your sweetheart, your kid, you name it.

The giveaway ends on February 28, 2015, so please spread the love and make sure everyone you know who deserves something nice for Passover (or Easter or just because) gets an entry to win.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Moving to America: So Much is Happening

Passover: Asher's first trip to the beach in Ashdod, Israel.

Everything in flux. 

We fly in a few days from Tel Aviv to New York to Omaha. We'll drive on to Lincoln and then after a few days of catching up and seeing how things are with my father we'll be on to Denver.

Rockies, ahoy!

Our earthly belongings are on a barge headed toward the U.S., arriving with luck on May 5. Anyone have $3,500 I can have? The worst that could happen is that we can't pay for the container and our goods will end up on that shipping-container wars show. I'd love for the Israelis to bid and win our seforim (religious books).

The past few weeks have involved friends, neighbors, and complete strangers moving in and out of our house buying and taking things, from the most trivial of bunny rabbit ears to the more expensive closets and appliances. Never fear, my purple KitchenAid is staying in Israel.

I'm coming back for it. 

I've been amazed at the chutzpah of some people in the buying-and-selling process. Asking for discounts on our already half-priced items, plus delivery on the back of Mr. T. Sigh. In the U.S. when I moved and sold everything it went quickly, people came promptly, they took things apart and moved them themselves. It was a completely different experience.

Why is Israel so desperate? 

I keep looking off the balcony at the view we have into the valley and on to Beitar and Tzur Hadassah. I'm going to miss that view. I'm going to miss a lot about Israel while we're away. I don't think I was here long enough to really adopt the Israeli mentality or mannerisms. My Hebrew isn't good because I don't use it much, and I can't yet argue on the phone with the utility company in the way that accomplishes anything. I'm too patient at government offices.

I hate the chutzpah; I'll miss the chutzpah.

If anything, Israel reminds me of the person I am, the unchanging person I am at the core. Simple (my Nebraska roots and an ode to my father), slow, forgiving, patient to a fault. But also how my American sensibilities have created expectations that I can't seem to outgrow, expectations that might take me years once we return to Israel to really change. That I wish will someday change. Filtered water, a dryer, a bureaucracy that makes sense, a conscious of health (Bamba, Bamba, Bamba), kale, inexpensive convenience health foods, shaving cream, razors that don't cost a bajillion dollars, anything that doesn't cost a bajillion dollars. I'm too used to the convenience of stores where I can get high quality products for low prices. That's an expectation that probably will get worse as I go back to America.

If wishes were fishes ... 

It isn't going to be easy. None of it is easy. The reasons we're going to the U.S. aren't easy. But this isn't yeridah (the opposite of aliyah), it isn't running away from anything. If anything, we're running toward something. We're running in the direction of peace, health, happiness.

After all, everything comes from HaShem.

Book Review: 'Tis the Season for Haggadot

Ah Passover! What a time of year, right? You get to spend hours cleaning your house of all that chametz (leavened goods made of barley, wheat, spelt, rye, and oats) and other shmutz that might have accumulated over the past year, while also meal planning the most amazing chametz-free week of food that won't fill you full of potato starch, potatoes, and more starch.

Preparing for the season, I've lamented that our books are all packed up and leaving on a barge for America today. I also don't have all of the haggadot that I used when I was living in the U.S. (because I sold them ... sigh). We don't have many things laying around that offer Pesach-season inspiration, unfortunately, so I've been blessed with the most amazing seasonally inspiring books from Mosaica Press, including Darkness to Destiny: The Haggadah Experience by Rabbi Immanuel Bernstein.

I'll admit right off the bat: The cover is cheesy in the style of so many pieces of Judaica these days, which is off-putting if you don't spend a time reading books of the Feldheim/Artscroll variety. But please, give it a chance!

One friend commented that the haggadah "seems a bit 101," which in truth is the way you want a haggadah to be. Sitting at a Passover seder table is not the place to be knee-deep in midrash, folks. It's small morsels of awesome, inspirational thought that will get you through the seder and allow you the option of participating by providing the other guests with some fun facts, tidbits, and takes on different aspects of the seder "service."

Reading through Darkness to Destiny, I was inspired to pursue a few topics and even wrote about them on About.com. I had zero clue that the four cups of wine were in any way remotely related to the dreams that Joseph interpreted in the Pharaoh narratives. Curious by this morsel shared in the commentaries in the beginning of the haggadah, I ended up writing up a look at the different reasons for the four cups of wine at the Passover seder for About.com. That led me to considering the three matzot and the reason for having three instead of, say, four (as is the theme of the seder with the cups of wine, the sons, and so many other things).

And this, folks, is what you want in a haggadah: Questions that raise more thought-provoking questions. The theme of Passover is, of course, "Why is this night different than all other nights?"

So if you're still considering what haggadot to have at your seder, may I suggest this mix-and-match selection for the diversity of your guests that includes this very easy-to-read take on the classic.

Going to America

With a heavy, heavy heart and the anticipation of assumptions, we're moving to the U.S. for a few years to be near my family. I'm not going to go into the details, but your thoughts and prayers are always welcome.

We're heading back after Passover, where we'll be stationed in Colorado with very frequent trips back and forth to Nebraska (the drive I've done 1 million times).

Stay tuned for more details. It's all happening very fast. This approach is like a bandaid, folks.

Note: We're coming back to Israel as soon as we possibly can. Most definitely by the time Ash hits school. Never fear. Eretz Yisrael hasn't spit us out for good. 

The Pursuit of Happiness

I started off writing a post about my Passover experience. Detail by detail. Seder to Seder, meal to meal, joke to joke. But it didn't feel sincere, when all I can think about is how disconnected this year was compared to every observant Passover I've had since 2008.

For the first year since 2008, when I had the world's greatest experience in Chicago thanks to Rabbi Asher Lopatin's help finding me a seder, I was spending Passover mostly by myself. The past three years I enjoyed the tale of our Exodus from Egypt with Evan's family -- the first two years in Florida, poolside, visiting his grandmother, aunt and uncle, and last year in Monsey with cousins. Those were family holidays, how I always envisioned Passover to be. In Florida, four generations gathered around a large seder table eating matzo and cracking jokes.

Even the first year I observed Passover in Chicago, the seder was a family experience. Led by a grandfather at the father's house with grandmother and the orphans of the community around the table.

I'm not saying this year didn't feel like family, but it wasn't the same. The seders were outstanding, filled with intelligent queries and questions of why, why, why. And there were families there, generations represented, but they weren't my family.

An old friend (circa 2006 when I was working at The Washington Post) stopped in last week for the first seder (her first, as far as I know) while working on a story for GOOD magazine. We spent a lot of time talking about my conversion and what I'm really looking for in life, the thing that Judaism was meant to represent for me -- community, family, connections, belonging.

The pursuit of family.

There's something about the seder that asks us all to be a part of a continuum, from generation to generation, and for so many -- even the most secular of Jews -- the seder creates a consistent timeline within a family. For about three years, I was part of a continuum, a story within a family that could serve as a history.

And now? I'm an orphan, a random. And I'm trying so hard to remember that family is more than immediate connections made through marriage or birth. I'm trying to remember that the Jewish community is a family all its own.

But for some reason, I feel so outside of the community. Self-imposed out of fear? Fear of rejection, chastising? Perhaps. I don't know where I've gone wrong or how I ended up here, but despite the inclusion I received at seders and end-of-chag meals, I still feel like that piece of furniture that no one can seem to place. Who bought it? Where do we put it? Should we throw it out? Put it in the attic? It's as if no one knows what to do with me, and worse yet -- I don't know what to do with myself.

Passover, I think, was eye-opening for me. It made me long for something I've lost -- my Jewish family. So the question is: How do I recover what I had, what I lost, and what I need?

(Note: I don't want this to sound like I am diminishing the amazing friends who keep me afloat -- I'm looking at you @melschol -- but there's so much more that I long for. I crave memory, family, history.)

Two Important Pesach Questions

Well, they're important to me, anyway. You see, being a gluten-freebie like I am, I only have gluten-free oats in the house, which means I don't have chametzdik items around to tear up and disperse around my house for the big search on Thursday night.

So what do I do? Do I sprinkle oats all over the place? Seems a little ... strange.

Since we're talking about Passover, can I use my year-round hot-water kettle over Passover? Without kashering?

Ready, set ... go!

Oh Passover! Oh Passover! How Soon You are Approaching!

Oh ... Passover! Pesach! The feast of unleavened bread! The week of pained colon! So on, and so forth. 'Tis the season, folks, are you fully prepared?

I'll just say that I'm not. Period. I bought some stuff to exist as Passover-specific, and I'm planning on taking a bucket-load of things to be kashered tomorrow -- pots, pans, and other bigger items that I can't kasher on my stovetop. But beyond that? I haven't started cleaning and the amount of kosher l'pesach products I've purchased is relegated to some jam, some of the Yehuda Gluten-Free Matzos (which don't fulfill the mitzvah for the seder), and a few other things. I'm trying to buy as little as humanly possible for Passover, largely because over the past three years the volume of things that I had in my dating and married life sort of horrifies me now. When I was married, we had two homes and each of those homes had three sets of everything for everything. We had Meat, Dairy, Parve and Passover Meat, Dairy Parve. Among two homes, that amounted to twelve sets of things. Of course, the Parve weren't full sets, but otherwise, we had it. It was just too much. So I'm going minimalist this year.

Thus, tomorrow, it being the kashering day, also is going to be the "start the cleaning" day. I've got a kosher l'pesach Smoothie Maker for all of my liquid-diet needs, and I'm planning on doing a lot of salads and eggs.

And on that note, I'm also going Sephardic. That means I plan on digging through piles of rice to get all the bad things out, so that come Friday night, I have clean, kosher-for-Passover rice. I probably won't delve too much into beans, but I do plan on having quinoa around. Flax Seed also is a friend of mine, so you can expect that will be in the diet plan, too. Also? I was elated to find out there are certain brands of Rice and Almond milk that are good for Passover (for Sephardim) WITHOUT certification. Color me stoked! (Find the Sephardic kosher-for-Passover products list here.)

Luckily, I have a pantry that I can simply close off, and I plan on taping off all of my cabinets, too. This is going to be live-on-the-counter Passover.
x
The reality, lucky for me, is that there really isn't any chametz in my home to begin with. The only thing that is chametz are the gluten-free oats that I have. Otherwise, this is a 24/7/365-chametz-free zone. Does that mean any less cleaning? Nope. Oats are chametz, and thus hardcore cleaning is a must.

I'm also one of those people who always ascribed to the idea that on Passover, a house should be completely clean of chametz. You have plenty of warning, you know when Passover is, so eat all of your bread and cereal beforehand. I've never bought into this whole "sell your chametz" thing. It just seems like a cheap copout. But this year? Well, the gluten-free oats that I have are from Trader Joe's, and I have an entire unopened bag of them. There are no Trader Joe's near here, and the other gluten-free oats I can purchase are hella expensive. So I'm being that person this year: I'm keeping my oats, locking them away, and feeling like a hypocrite.

In addition, I'm planning to do a hardcore car-cleaning scrub down this week. We all eat in our cars, we can't lie about it. Whether it's a snack or a coffee or a nosh, we do it. I have, without a doubt, eaten some delicious oat-based granola bars in my car, and that's chametz, so I'm going to vacuum the heck out of my car. Plus, it's a good time for Spring Cleaning, so why not?

But I have a week to do all of this. I really need to do a bit of meal-planning so that I have everything I need once Friday attacks. I have plans for both of the seders, yet no plans for the last days of Passover. In between, I plan on my staples of Matzo + Cream Cheese + Jam for snacking and lots of smoothies and raw foods for meals. Still, it's going to be a rough week as a Gluten-Free Vegetarian. I might have to cave and rock out some fish this week.

If you're in a last-minute rush and need some help with finding a seder, figuring out the rules and regulations, or are looking for some gnarly recipes, here are some helpful resources!

• Passover.org | Yes, it's run by Chabad. They own the domain. I think this is impressive! Their website has everything from the blessings to a bounty of recipes that will leave you giggling with joy. I highly recommend the Lemon Ice Cream. Also, they have a calendar to keep you on track with what you're supposed to do when. Print it out, and abide!
• Vegetarian Times Super Seder | If you're like me, you're looking for filling, protein-packed vegetarian meals. These recipes sound delish!
• Oranges + Seder Plates | If you're curious what the history is, read my post on it. 
• Unconverted at the Seder Table? | Yeah, it came up once. It's an interesting thing to consider. Then again, we're supposed to have strangers at our table!
• JoyofKosher.com | It is what it is. A seder-plate full of recipes!
• The Orthodox Union | They have everything you could need up -- a sefirat ha'omer chart, a guide to foods, and more. Check out their digital magazine here. 

Have any questions you think I can answer? Just let me know!

Book Review: A Dynamic Approach to the Seder

Sitting down to write this blog has, for some reason, been incredibly difficult. I'm not sure if it's because I'm not in a book-review mode, or if it's just that I'm so busy in my work life that I dread having to do anything that isn't sleep. But since I'm staying in tonight at TribeFest (more to come on this, including my awesome encounter with the hilarious Rachel Dratch), I figure if not now, when?

I received a copy of the New American Haggadah -- which people are incorrectly calling the "Jonathan Safran Foer" haggadah -- for review, and I have to say that I'm a fan in some respects and a critic in others. But that's why you guys read my reviews, right? Despite this being a freebie, I do my best to be as honest and forthcoming about my opinions, so here we go.

The unique thing about this haggadah is that it offers a multi-facted approach to the Passover experience --  there are beautiful, visual pieces and images throughout the book, fascinating historical notes, and big questions for big conversation.

I appreciate the introduction, written by Jonathan Safran Foer (who also edited this new version of the classic text), which declares that "This Haggadah makes no attempt to redefine what a Haggadah is, or overlay any particular political or regional agenda (v)." The emphasis of the creators of this haggadah is on the always-evolving and creative nature of the haggadah, because with a changing time and lifestyle comes new versions of haggadot with new artistic interpretations and question-inspiring conversation pieces.

There are a lot of graphics issues with the font spacing throughout the haggadah, which really bothered me. On page 6, for example, the "e" in Exodus appears on a different line than the rest of the word. It seems that there was a rush job or someone jacked something up at the last minute resulting in some really weird issues like this.

I do like that throughout the haggadah are little sections (that annoyingly require a turning the book sideways) that approach a significant issue from four perspectives: Playground, House of Study, Library, and Nation. I'm not entirely clear what each of the categories is geared toward, but Playground tends to be pretty loosey-goosey and cute, although sometimes they seemed a little too flippant (like the Four Children and there being Four Parents). One of the sections I really appreciated was on the idea of the significance of bread, the matzo bread.

Without bread there is no Torah. (Mishna, Pirkei Avot 3:2)

and

This is the bread of affliction. All who are bent with hunger, come and eat. 

The Nation section discusses this but misses the point. It's too literal. I won't spoil it for you, but I will say that as a note for Passover, when we're told that all who are hungry should come and eat, it is not meant to be literal. Hunger -- like the blindness experienced during the book of Exodus -- is multi-facted. To be hungry is to yearn, to need to fill a void. This might be physical nourishment, but I believe that the idea here is to fill the spiritual void, the neshama is hungry! Don't you think?

I'm also perplexed by the translation of Elo-enu as "God-of-Us." I know that translations are peculiar, but this is one that I've really never seen and I'm not sure what the significance is of not saying "Our G-d." What is your take on this?

A page spread, the design done by Oded Ezer.

The art is strange, and although I don't understand much of it, I appreciate the illumination of certain prayers and powerful words like "And they did us evil, those Egyptians, and they tortured us, saddling us with punishing work" (in the Hebrew of course). Some of the images resemble fractals -- beautiful, brush-stroked fractals.

I want to share so many of the interesting and bizarre historical details, but I don't want this post to be too long and, of course, I don't want to spoil things for you if you plan on buying this specific haggadah. The truth is, I really like this version of the classic, but I don't know how I feel about the aesthetics. Having to turn this large book to its side to read the topical breakout pieces or the historic pieces is quite the pain, and I can't imagine how difficult it would be at the seder table.

However, I think this version will be most excellent for throwing morsels of knowledge around at the seder table! (One I'm excited about is the Livorno Haggadah that was printed for former Conversos.)

Like Coming Home

When I can't sleep, I compose. Usually this entails a body too exhausted to move and a brain too active to shut up before getting all of its thoughts, emotions, and plans down in some unwritten vault of my brain, never to be written in any tangible form. I've written papers, book intros, you name it -- my brain has processed it brilliantly. But will you ever see the genius? Nah. I've always been too tired to put pen to paper. However, tonight I thought maybe if I write it all down, my brain will shut down and go to sleep, and maybe, just maybe, my stomach (which is upset from a cleanse-gone-wrong) will be satisfied and the two can agree peacefully to leave me alone.

So, on to the meat and potatoes of the post. After all, that was about all one could eat over Passover, right?

The last two days of Passover, Tuvia and I were in West Hartford staying with our most favorite Israeli transplants who, unfortunately, are re-transplanting to Israel in a few months. These are the amazing people that I stayed with for much of my time in West Hartford, bunking in a guest room and being woken up by the cutest little girl named after a body of water in Israel one can imagine. (That's Kinneret.) The great thing about this family is that they lived about two doors down from the shul, so my knees remained in tact and my soul got a lot of love.

Family, after all, is more than the people whose blood runs through our bodies and whose character traits we have unwillingly adopted.

Going to West Hartford, then, was like coming home. (Roll DirtyDittyMoney's "Coming Home.)

I didn't sleep much the last two days of the chag, for one reason or another. The sugar consumption of Passover was catching up to me, and the heat was obnoxiously keeping my cool-style sleep schedule off balance. So I didn't go to shul the first night, or the next morning, or the evening after that. Everyone knew I was there, because Tuvia was at shul, and the joke was that I was so frum I wasn't going to shul anymore. As. If. I was almost anxious to go to synagogue, the place where I really fell into my Orthodox pattern of life, where I learned to love and judge (yes, you read that right) other Jews and their practices, where I watched Tuvia grow in his Judaism, and where, eventually, I finalized my Orthodox conversion process.

We left that family nearly a year ago. After our May 31, 2010, wedding, we practically disappeared. Friends came to our wedding, and poof -- just like that, we were gone, caught up in the whirlwind of married life, moving, changing jobs and communities, and starting a new life. It's been great, too.

But sometimes, you just miss your friends. The people who know you best. The people who listened to your concerns, your fears, your life story in all of its detail and still chose to love you. Those people, Baruch haShem, I got to spend some time with over the last days of the chag. 


It was an amazing meal with two couples who are on a plan to move back to Israel when life gets easier. It was bonding with a wee lad named Asher (the name I've chosen for a future son of my own), who somehow gravitated toward me, staring at me deeply in the eyes looking at something that I can only imagine he saw in me. It was talking about the haggadah and the command to return to Israel. Then it was meals with our hosts, the casual and friendly way that I love it. The kids moving from couch to table and the littlest one patiently noshing tuna salad without a care in the world, smiling and giggling the whole time. It was being heard by our hosts in discussions about some of the hardest aspects of life and them being devoted to helping us along the way. It was schlepping a long way for a meal at the Brenner Bed & Breakfast (ha, ha) with some visitors from London, and learning about how the neighborhood has changed since we left and, of course, how lives have continued to move forward.

And seeing all of the regular kids in shul, grown up ... towering over each other and moving at the speed of life toward adolescence? It shook me.

The last time we were in West Hartford wasn't that long ago. Maybe six months? But in those six months, new couples have come, marriages have occurred, babies have been born, children have sprouted like well-watered plants, and people have continued living. Without us.

But walking into that synagogue, into the homes of our friends, and sitting down at the tables and chairs of people who know us all-to-well, well, that was more than I could have asked for during the last days of Passover. Being liberated from Egypt is one thing, but being liberated from the fear that the people who once knew you have forgotten who you were or stopped caring about you?

Priceless.

Making Passover in Monsey

On Monday, I took a schlep over to the community chametz burning and left smelling like bonfire (my apologies to anyone and everyone at the grocery store who had to smell me afterward).

Burn chametz burn!

Monday night, I took off to Monsey (or, rather, Spring Valley) to meet up with Tuvia, because we were set to spend the first two nights of Passover -- the seder nights -- with our amazing family (well, Tuvia's family, my in-laws, the Katzes). I was eager, nay, excited for Pesach by them because, well, the past two years we'd jet-setted off to Florida for Pesach with the Galatz side of the family, and although it was always great, we were among the few religious relatives and we spent our days pool-side instead of at synagogue.

These sederim were filled with mishpacha from Toronto, us from Jersey, and the Monsey family, and the table was full of children -- five, to be exact! It felt like what I can only understand as a "real" seder where there are enough children to read the Four Questions and sing the kid-geared songs, where the kids are at an age where matzo still tastes good. I really felt like a part of the family; I connected with the hosts on a personal level and I felt like the kids really were excited to have me there. Having a Jewish family that wants me there feels so powerful, especially on a chag.

The first night, we topped off the evening at 12:15 and the second, we shaved five minutes off the seder. The food was outstanding (homemade applesauce? yes, I got leftovers), and everything tasted so fresh and delicious because, honestly, it was made with love for such an important chag. 


The second night, I was charged with washing and checking the lettuce -- oy. Talk about some major pressure. But we put the seder together in record time before the guys got home from shul and for the first time in my life, I actually really enjoyed being the woman behind the scenes, at home, rushing and fixing the table for the meal, proud of my handiwork, having placed all of the items on each of the seder plates. I stood back proud. (Of course, I did have to check the haggadah for what was what because, let's be honest, I couldn't remember the Hebrew for the shank bone, which left me feeling like I couldn't muster the proper Jewish strength to figure out the chag.)

Every year, I get anxious around the chagim. They come once a year, and let's be honest -- this was actually only my fourth or fifth official Passover in the history of me. That means I don't have much experience on the nitty gritty, and I've never had to put together my own seder. But the confidence that the hostess -- who is amazing -- had in me made me feel a part of the whole thing.

Now it's time to enjoy some chol ha'moed matzo and cream cheese. Although I had my ($28/box) oat matzo for the sederim, I'm sticking to the Yehuda brand "matzo-style" crackers. And? I'm excited. Excited for homemade applesauce, some leftover ratatouille, and lots, and lots of schoolwork.

Alas, school doesn't stop just because we stop to recall and relive the Exodus ...

Hebrew Language and the Passover Connection

Passover is mere steps from our doorsteps, and its expecting no crumbs of bread or other wheat-filled goodies to greet it. Are you ready?

I've been busy doing research for looming papers (following in the steps of Pesach, of course), and the most interesting at this point is a paper on the Impact of Hebrew Language Education on Jewish Identity. I've got more sources than I know what to do with, but few actually appear to have talked to students or individuals on what kind of impact such education has or hasn't had on how they identify. One of the interesting things that I read in one of the many books I've got sitting around is about Passover and the role of language in the redemption of the Israelites from the hands of the Egyptians.

According to Rav Huna, in the name of Bar Kapara, in the Midrash on Shemot (Exodus), four things kept the Jews together and thus merited their redemption from Egypt, and one of those was that they didn't change their language. Hebrew held a utilitarian function: it helped (and helps) to maintain Jewish identity and identification.

For me, at this time of Passover, this bit of knowledge speaks volumes to me. It makes me wonder, as is my tendency, why we don't do more to encourage the learning and fluency of Hebrew in the Diaspora. If, at one time, the Israelites were united through a common tongue, why do we pay so little importance to it outside of Israel?

According to David Schers, "There are ways of belonging to a people without knowing it's main-historical-cultural-language(s), but in such circumstances, the implementation and maintenance of cultural, and social, dimensions face more difficulties." The great Chaim (Hayyim) Nahman Bialik once referred to language as a "repository of a culture's most cherished attitudes and values."

Ultimately, language is symbolic communication. It is symbolic of values and culture. It saved us once -- can it save us again?

An unrelated random thought:

The numerical value of chometz (חמץ) is 138. This is the same as the numerical value for pegimah (פגימה), the word for blemish. Whoever eats chometz on Pesach thus blemishes his neshama. ~ Rabbi Yaakov Culi


Some random Passover blog posts:


Last year, I wrote Passover haikus, highlighted some stomach-ache-filled cooking, and wrote Pesach Cometh, Have You Shaken Your Books?

In 2009, I did a poll about favorite matzah toppings, and I did two parts of a Passover roundup on my experiences in Florida with Tuvia's family. I also lamented the fact that I think we should all throw our chametz away or donate it to charity, not sell it (I don't get the selling bit ... ). As it turns out, I blogged A LOT in 2009 about Passover. There's like 10-12 posts on Pesach there, in case you want to peruse the Q&A and commentary (by moi).

And then, of course, there is the bizarre Chabad-inspired Pesach dream I had in 2008. Not to mention the interesting encounter I had during Passover 2008 in Chicago that I deemed the "Passover Paradox." My most favorite Passover memory, of course, is my first true Passover Seder in Chicago that really drew me further than ever into my desire to be Orthodox, as well as my failure at Shabbos and abiding by the Passover rules (sort of).

In 2007, I wrote about the miserable experience I had at a gigantic seder in Chicago. Talk about bad news bears.

Overall I'm blown away by how many blog posts I have on Passover. It seems 2008 and 2009 were big years for me as I learned how to observe and cook for Passover on my own. Since then, the chagim seem to come and go without notice or fanfare. Maybe I should do another poll this year -- the question is, what to ask?

Joy of Kosher Magazine Giveaway!

NO MORE COPIES LEFT! THANKS EVERYONE!

I have EIGHT copies of Jamie Geller's new Joy of Kosher magazine to send to eight lucky readers! Will you be one of them?

The new Joy of Kosher website launched recently, and if you haven't visited it, you're really missing out (and not just because I guest posted on being gluten-free on Passover). It's chock full of recipes, food goodies, and more.

The magazine that I have is 64 pages of recipes and seder plate ideas, and it's the quantity of recipes that has me kvelling. I know Passover is right around the corner, so these Yom Tov recipes might not make it into your already-planned meals, but these recipes are year-round friendly. I'm particularly stoked about the desserts, which look amazing, including a Chocolate Mousse recipe, a Vacherin recipe, a Chocolate Crackle recipe and ... nom nom nom ... a yummy looking Chocolate Macaroon recipe. The magazine has simple recipes for sauces and dips, and it also lays out menu ideas for the main meals and some light sides and breakfast goods.

So you want a copy of this amazing magazine? All you have to do is be one of the FIRST EIGHT people to comment with a way for me to reach you via email to get your mailing address.

I can't wait to see you guys put some of these delicious recipes to the test!

Passover Video Round-up!

There are so many good Passover videos out right now, I want to make sure everyone catches the best and the brightest. I think my favorite is the Aish.com video. Although I don't love Aish, I can give a nod to an amazing video job, and I'm already gaga for Jake Gyllenhaal. And the NJOP video? Well, those always are worth a view.

Are there others out there I should know about?