I do not own slaves. Hubby and my kids may beg to differ (especially around Pesach time) but the truth is I could not even hang on to a cleaning lady when I was very pregnant and in desperate need of one. I just find it very uncomfortable to have people do for me what I am fully capable of doing myself and, even more, I cannot tolerate the idea that someone will see themselves as under my power. Which is weird for someone who revels in ordering people around.
This week's parasha starts with the issue of how to treat slaves and even when other laws intervene, there is usually an insert regarding the special case of slaves for each law. Slavery is very distasteful to us. Not just because we are modern people or because we live in the land of the free, but because we are Jews and we remember a time when we were slaves ourselves and how terrible that was.
For much of history, slavery was totally acceptable; which is why the Torah sees fit to deal with this instead of just saying "Don't own slaves." People were gonna own slaves anyway. It was the reality of those times and the Torah chose, wisely, to limit the harm instead of fighting a lost cause.
What's so bad about slavery? Let's say the master is sort of OK-ish so you don't really get beaten much, you have enough food to survive, you're allowed a wife and kids and your work is not too unbearable. How is that different from how most of the world lives even today? So what's the problem?
When you're a slave, you are not truly seen as a human. Because you lose the right to exercise free will. It's true that a poor person or a homeless person or an abused person have very few options, but they are (in a civilized society) allowed to chose what (if anything) to do about their situation. The tragedy of slavery is that you can no longer change your circumstances. At best, you might be able to somewhat improve them. When you are a slave, it doesn't matter how hard you work; it would not get you the freedom you want. It doesn't matter what your hopes and dreams are; you are never going to achieve them unless another person will feel like giving you the chance. And that person has the power to take it away if he so wishes. And if that person dies, you are at the mercy of his heirs. You are property, not a person.
But, we no longer own slaves, do we? True, there are places in the world where slavery is still alive and well, and we all hope that someone is doing something about it, but we, personally, do not own anyone. So we're good.
Are we? One does not need to physically own another human in order to enslave them. Every time we treat a person as less than human, we are enslaving them. My aunt Tziporah taught me this lesson. She took me out to lunch soon after my wedding and bought me a set of ceramic pots and bowls. We were sitting in Dizengoff Center (the very first mall in Israel) and after lunch, we went to the ladies' room (as all girls tend to do at every opportunity) and Aunt Tziporah turned to the attendant and said "Good morning, how are you today?" The poor, shabbily dressed, old-before-her-time woman was struck dumb by the fact that someone had acknowledged her existence. Some very well dressed lady (and aunt Tziporah was a super snappy dresser) had recognized her humanity. I never forgot this. I wish I could say I learned from it and became a nice person (note I did not say "nicer"; I do know myself,) but the sad truth is that I, too, ignore service people. I, too, am a "slave-owner."
My children agree. Every time I ask them to empty the dishwasher, they groan and moan and sigh. Do not even get me started on what happens before Pesach. Really, my slave-ownership knows no bounds.
To show just how mean I am, I baked the following for my slaves one cold, blustery afternoon, so that the house smelled of warm chocolate when they came in from school. Truly the sign of a cruel slave driver.
Chocolate chip loaf
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/2 cup chocolate chips (look, if we're going to torture our slaves, let's do it right; one and a half cups it is)
2 eggs
1/4 cup milk (I used half and half because I am extra cruel. Also, I did not have milk.)
1/2 cup orange juice
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/3 cup melted butter (you can use oil, but why would you?)
Stir together flour, baking powder, salt, baking soda and sugar, Add 1 1/4 cup of the chocolate chips and stir again. Make a well in the center.
In a separate bowl beat eggs with milk, orange juice and vanilla; then blend in the butter.
Pour egg mixture into flour mixture and mix just until the dry ingredients are moistened.
Pour into an oiled and floured loaf pan (I used a regular sized one, which was a mistake. Use a larger one or make two. The pan should not be more than 2/3 of the way full). Sprinkle the remaining 1/4 cup of chocolate chips evenly on top of the batter.
Bake at 350F until golden brown, about 60 minutes. Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then turn out unto a wire rack to cool completely.
And the next time you interact with a human being, whether rich or poor, homeless or living in a castle, your employee or a service person, Jew or gentile, be careful not to turn him or her into your slave. The Torah allowed us to own slaves but would have preferred we skip the notion altogether. Free your slaves.
Not you, girls, the dishwasher still has to be emptied.
Showing posts with label dessert. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dessert. Show all posts
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Bring the goat into the house
This is that very famous story about a poor Jewish guy who came to the rabbi to moan about his difficult life. He and his wife and their 12 kids and his mother in law all live in a one room shack and the noise, mess and confusion are unbearable. What is a Yid to do? Said the rabbi, get your cow and bring her into the house with you. A week later the Jew is back. Oy, things are worse than ever. What to do? Says the rabbi, bring your chickens into the house. The next week, here is the poor man again, at his wits' end, and the only advice the rabbi has for him is to bring his goat into the house to live with him, his wife, the kids, the MIL, the cow and the chickens. The very next day the Jew is there before sunrise. Rabbi, he says, I cannot take it another minute. Fine, says the rabbi, take the goat out of the house. That very Shabbat, after prayers, the rabbi approaches the man in shul and asks, Nu, how are things at home? Rabbi, says the man, you are indeed a genius. I had no idea how spacious and comfortable my house was. Now that the goat is gone, we have all that room, it's wonderful.
Moral of the story: It's all in your perception. The Israelites were very miserable in Egypt. Their cries of suffering rose high enough to get to heaven. I'm sure they felt that their lives are the worst lives possible. Then Pharaoh demanded that they not only keep up the bricks quota, but also find their own straw for making bricks. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire. Pharaoh's reasoning actually made sense. Apparently the Jews had too much free time on their hands. Free time to come up with silly notions of "We wanna go into the desert and worship our G-d" Excuse me? What G-d? In four hundred years you never once mentioned a G-d who needs a three day sojourn into the desert. Where did this so called "G-d" of yours come from? From idle talk during idle lounging around doing nothing. That's where. From Pharaoh's point of view, it seemed a logical conclusion.
For the Israelites, this was the last straw (pun intended.) They were not the ones to come up with this fokakteh idea, why should they be the ones to pay the price? From their point of view, this Moshe person, who suddenly showed up from the desert, was nothing but a pain in the backside.
Now, I do not blame them. They were not the ones who spoke to G-d and had His assurance that this is all part of a Grand Plan. To them, the misery of slavery was now ten times worse than before. How were they to know that it had to get worse in order to get better? It's all in the perception.
I was sick last week (still am as a matter of fact.) It's nice to stay in bed and have everyone fend for themselves. But I was sick just before Shabbat. Every week I clean and shop and bake and cook for Shabbat. And while I do it willingly, some times I cannot help but grumble under my breath that I wish there was not so much work involved and that someone else will think to share the load. Well, here was my wish come true. I was sick and it was Thursday night and nothing was done. Did I feel good about it? As if. It was way worse than usual. I dragged myself out of bed and cooked and baked as usual because, let's face it, had I left it up to hubby (as he suggested), we would have had some undercooked onions and mushrooms with some defrosted bagels at the kitchen table (which would not have been cleared of mail, used napkins and dirty glasses.) I did make my girls clean the house (at least what had to be clean to avoid the health department quarantining us) and I did manage to get hubby to shop for some basics without too much resistance. Yet having to cook and bake while not anywhere near healthy gave me a new perspective on things.
At least I had something simple and easy to make for dessert:
Favorite Apple Cake
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 Tbs vanilla extract
3 Tbs water
1 1/2 cup self rising flour
Pinch of salt
4 medium apples, cored, peeled, quartered, thinly sliced. (originally, you're supposed to use Granny Smith apples, but any kind will do)
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
In mixer, mix together eggs and sugar for one minute.
Add oil, vanilla and water. Mix for another minute.
Add flour and salt and mix very well. The mixture should be airy and light yellow in color. Don't be afraid to mix a little longer if needed.
Divide equally between two 8-inch square, greased pans.
Toss apples slices with cinnamon and brown sugar. Spread over batter (see notes).
Bake at 350F for 50-60 minutes until done. Do not let it get too brown. The cakes should be light colored.
Note: When you mix the apples and sugar, there might be some liquid at the bottom of the bowl. Do not let it get on the batter. Use your fingers instead of a spoon, if necessary, to transfer the apples unto the batter. Also, very important: (learned through trial and error) put more apples at the edges of the pans and very little at the center. The center tends to take forever to bake and having too much juice on it (as the apples bake) makes it take even longer, while the edges burn.
I know I always try to connect the recipe to the parasha somehow, no matter how feebly, but I am still not too well and this is really what I made for Shabbat. I had too many apples lying around and going bad and I was in no condition to go out and try to get more supplies (or to think too hard about a more complicated dessert).
So how about this? You find a connection between the cake and the parasha and I will be grateful. Do not scoff. It is way harder for me to be nice than for you to find associations, believe me.
OMG!! I just realized that this is the third week in a row I am posting desserts. For someone who doesn't really like sweets, that must be some kind of a record. I promise to try for a proper dish next time. Maybe something with actual nutritional value....
Moral of the story: It's all in your perception. The Israelites were very miserable in Egypt. Their cries of suffering rose high enough to get to heaven. I'm sure they felt that their lives are the worst lives possible. Then Pharaoh demanded that they not only keep up the bricks quota, but also find their own straw for making bricks. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire. Pharaoh's reasoning actually made sense. Apparently the Jews had too much free time on their hands. Free time to come up with silly notions of "We wanna go into the desert and worship our G-d" Excuse me? What G-d? In four hundred years you never once mentioned a G-d who needs a three day sojourn into the desert. Where did this so called "G-d" of yours come from? From idle talk during idle lounging around doing nothing. That's where. From Pharaoh's point of view, it seemed a logical conclusion.
For the Israelites, this was the last straw (pun intended.) They were not the ones to come up with this fokakteh idea, why should they be the ones to pay the price? From their point of view, this Moshe person, who suddenly showed up from the desert, was nothing but a pain in the backside.
Now, I do not blame them. They were not the ones who spoke to G-d and had His assurance that this is all part of a Grand Plan. To them, the misery of slavery was now ten times worse than before. How were they to know that it had to get worse in order to get better? It's all in the perception.
I was sick last week (still am as a matter of fact.) It's nice to stay in bed and have everyone fend for themselves. But I was sick just before Shabbat. Every week I clean and shop and bake and cook for Shabbat. And while I do it willingly, some times I cannot help but grumble under my breath that I wish there was not so much work involved and that someone else will think to share the load. Well, here was my wish come true. I was sick and it was Thursday night and nothing was done. Did I feel good about it? As if. It was way worse than usual. I dragged myself out of bed and cooked and baked as usual because, let's face it, had I left it up to hubby (as he suggested), we would have had some undercooked onions and mushrooms with some defrosted bagels at the kitchen table (which would not have been cleared of mail, used napkins and dirty glasses.) I did make my girls clean the house (at least what had to be clean to avoid the health department quarantining us) and I did manage to get hubby to shop for some basics without too much resistance. Yet having to cook and bake while not anywhere near healthy gave me a new perspective on things.
At least I had something simple and easy to make for dessert:
Favorite Apple Cake
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 Tbs vanilla extract
3 Tbs water
1 1/2 cup self rising flour
Pinch of salt
4 medium apples, cored, peeled, quartered, thinly sliced. (originally, you're supposed to use Granny Smith apples, but any kind will do)
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
In mixer, mix together eggs and sugar for one minute.
Add oil, vanilla and water. Mix for another minute.
Add flour and salt and mix very well. The mixture should be airy and light yellow in color. Don't be afraid to mix a little longer if needed.
Divide equally between two 8-inch square, greased pans.
Toss apples slices with cinnamon and brown sugar. Spread over batter (see notes).
Bake at 350F for 50-60 minutes until done. Do not let it get too brown. The cakes should be light colored.
Note: When you mix the apples and sugar, there might be some liquid at the bottom of the bowl. Do not let it get on the batter. Use your fingers instead of a spoon, if necessary, to transfer the apples unto the batter. Also, very important: (learned through trial and error) put more apples at the edges of the pans and very little at the center. The center tends to take forever to bake and having too much juice on it (as the apples bake) makes it take even longer, while the edges burn.
I know I always try to connect the recipe to the parasha somehow, no matter how feebly, but I am still not too well and this is really what I made for Shabbat. I had too many apples lying around and going bad and I was in no condition to go out and try to get more supplies (or to think too hard about a more complicated dessert).
So how about this? You find a connection between the cake and the parasha and I will be grateful. Do not scoff. It is way harder for me to be nice than for you to find associations, believe me.
OMG!! I just realized that this is the third week in a row I am posting desserts. For someone who doesn't really like sweets, that must be some kind of a record. I promise to try for a proper dish next time. Maybe something with actual nutritional value....
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Really bad parenting
Everybody knows that every generation has to make its own mistakes. No matter how hard and long you preach to the young, they will at best nod politely and do whatever they want. Then they fall on their faces in exactly the way you predicted and you have to bite your tongue to avoid saying the worst 4 words you can possibly say to the young "I told you so."
So this is the way of the world and after generations upon generations of human existence, it might be time to simply accept it and move on. However, when people do not learn from their own mistakes, one feels like slapping them upside the head and screeching "Moron!!!" And when the person making the mistake is old enough to know better, you want to tear your hair out from frustration. Which is sort of how I felt while reading the last parasha of Beresheet.
Ya'akov was smart enough to get a birthright that wasn't his by law. He was smart enough to get out of Lavan's house with everything he wanted to take and he was smart enough to sweet talk Esav into a friendly reunion. He was, however, totally dumb when it came to playing favorites. So, OK, we know that. His kids knew that. His wives knew that. Everyone knew it. Except Ya'akov himself, it seems.
Like, what? He really learned nothing from the "Yosef is favorite, Yosef disappears for years and believed dead" debacle? Did he think that, now that it turned out Yosef wasn't dead after all, he can just go back to playing favorites? What sort of an idiot continues to show his feelings like that after what happened? First he calls Yosef over and declares that Yosef's kids will be like his own kids from now on. This can work if handled properly. Hubby's Grandpa had no sons and when his daughter gave birth to his first male grandchild, he publicly and (semi)-officially adopted him as his own. The other grandchildren were born into that reality and accepted it as fact. Mind you, Hubby was a pain in the backside as a kid and a holy terror to his cousins, not to mention spoiled beyond belief. But Grandpa was an exceptionally wise man and he pampered all his grandchildren equally. Hubby's position only came into play in his personal relationship with his grandfather and in some inheritance issues. And Hubby is apparently the absolute favorite among his cousins. You have to see it to believe it. I know, and you know, that he is a sweetheart of a guy, but you should have seen the reception he got when we came to Israel. You'd have thought he was a movie star, the way they flocked to his side. No one ever thought of selling him to the Yishmaelites until I came along.
Ya'akov, on the other hand, is not satisfied with messing up a new generation of his ancestors, extending the hurt feelings and resentment into the grand-children's generation. Playing one set of grandkids against all their older cousins. Oh, no. When this guy messes up, he messes up big. He tells Yosef, in front of his sons, that the younger will be much more important than the older. Do siblings need to hear that? Oy.
Then, just to seal the resentment for generations to come, observe his death-bed scene: Each of the sons gets a short "blessing". Not one of those is free of some acidic remark. Even Binyamin, who was supposedly a favorite also. But for Yosef. Ahhhh. Ben Porat Yosef. Five verses. All filled with praise, sympathy and real blessings. I want to remind you, this was not a private session. Each of the brothers heard what Pop was saying about all of the others. Poor Yosef must have been looking for a hole to crawl into before his brothers will throw him into one themselves.
Luckily, Yosef is now a big deal and not so easy to get rid of. So his brothers make nice and beg him to not take revenge on them. Were they really scared that Ya'akov dying means he is no longer protecting them from Yosef? Seriously? The same Ya'akov who clearly showed his contempt for, dissatisfaction with and disillusion of them? And what does Yosef think about the whole thing? He is no longer the brat he used to be. He is a father himself and knows that you shouldn't show favoritism (he's the one who tried to get Ya'akov to acknowledge Menashe's first-born status.) What does he do when they come to him hat-in-hand, with such a pathetic story ("Daddy, who loved you and couldn't stand any of us, said you should be nice to us." As if.)? He cries. He does not want to continue the feud. He knows it was wrong to favor one child over the others. He wants his brothers to be his brothers, not his competitors for Dad's love. He will be as good to them as he can, letting the past go, leaving it behind in the cave of Machpelah, with the father who has wronged them all. This is probably Yosef's greatest moment as a human being.
Did I learn from it? Of course not. I've already said that we only learn from our own mistakes, if we learn at all. I try real hard not to show favoritism. It's not so difficult as both my girls are wonderful. But apparently I am not very successful. Just yesterday I was told by one of them that she feels that I have a way better relationship with her sister than I have with her. I try to make allowances for her young age and the fact that her nature is approximately 180 degrees from my own. I wish there was a way to show you how much I love you, sweetie, how amazing and wonderful you are. How talented. And smart. And kind and lovely. How proud I am of your achievements, which are completely different from your sister's achievements. I wish I could be a better mother. I wish you made these cookies so I can give you the credit. But, alas, it was your chocoholic sister who came up with this decadent concoction. I still love you very, very much and I promise to try harder.
These cookies are very dangerous. Luckily, even the most chocoholics among us cannot possibly eat more than one or two at a time since these are way too rich for human consumption. You have been warned!!
Eat at your own risk cookies
Makes 2 dozen
On the other hand: Does anyone have children (any gender, any number, any combination, any ages) who are not convinced that their parents favor their sibling/s over them, and who can, at the drop of a hat, provide endless proof to support this belief?
So this is the way of the world and after generations upon generations of human existence, it might be time to simply accept it and move on. However, when people do not learn from their own mistakes, one feels like slapping them upside the head and screeching "Moron!!!" And when the person making the mistake is old enough to know better, you want to tear your hair out from frustration. Which is sort of how I felt while reading the last parasha of Beresheet.
Ya'akov was smart enough to get a birthright that wasn't his by law. He was smart enough to get out of Lavan's house with everything he wanted to take and he was smart enough to sweet talk Esav into a friendly reunion. He was, however, totally dumb when it came to playing favorites. So, OK, we know that. His kids knew that. His wives knew that. Everyone knew it. Except Ya'akov himself, it seems.
Like, what? He really learned nothing from the "Yosef is favorite, Yosef disappears for years and believed dead" debacle? Did he think that, now that it turned out Yosef wasn't dead after all, he can just go back to playing favorites? What sort of an idiot continues to show his feelings like that after what happened? First he calls Yosef over and declares that Yosef's kids will be like his own kids from now on. This can work if handled properly. Hubby's Grandpa had no sons and when his daughter gave birth to his first male grandchild, he publicly and (semi)-officially adopted him as his own. The other grandchildren were born into that reality and accepted it as fact. Mind you, Hubby was a pain in the backside as a kid and a holy terror to his cousins, not to mention spoiled beyond belief. But Grandpa was an exceptionally wise man and he pampered all his grandchildren equally. Hubby's position only came into play in his personal relationship with his grandfather and in some inheritance issues. And Hubby is apparently the absolute favorite among his cousins. You have to see it to believe it. I know, and you know, that he is a sweetheart of a guy, but you should have seen the reception he got when we came to Israel. You'd have thought he was a movie star, the way they flocked to his side. No one ever thought of selling him to the Yishmaelites until I came along.
Ya'akov, on the other hand, is not satisfied with messing up a new generation of his ancestors, extending the hurt feelings and resentment into the grand-children's generation. Playing one set of grandkids against all their older cousins. Oh, no. When this guy messes up, he messes up big. He tells Yosef, in front of his sons, that the younger will be much more important than the older. Do siblings need to hear that? Oy.
Then, just to seal the resentment for generations to come, observe his death-bed scene: Each of the sons gets a short "blessing". Not one of those is free of some acidic remark. Even Binyamin, who was supposedly a favorite also. But for Yosef. Ahhhh. Ben Porat Yosef. Five verses. All filled with praise, sympathy and real blessings. I want to remind you, this was not a private session. Each of the brothers heard what Pop was saying about all of the others. Poor Yosef must have been looking for a hole to crawl into before his brothers will throw him into one themselves.
Luckily, Yosef is now a big deal and not so easy to get rid of. So his brothers make nice and beg him to not take revenge on them. Were they really scared that Ya'akov dying means he is no longer protecting them from Yosef? Seriously? The same Ya'akov who clearly showed his contempt for, dissatisfaction with and disillusion of them? And what does Yosef think about the whole thing? He is no longer the brat he used to be. He is a father himself and knows that you shouldn't show favoritism (he's the one who tried to get Ya'akov to acknowledge Menashe's first-born status.) What does he do when they come to him hat-in-hand, with such a pathetic story ("Daddy, who loved you and couldn't stand any of us, said you should be nice to us." As if.)? He cries. He does not want to continue the feud. He knows it was wrong to favor one child over the others. He wants his brothers to be his brothers, not his competitors for Dad's love. He will be as good to them as he can, letting the past go, leaving it behind in the cave of Machpelah, with the father who has wronged them all. This is probably Yosef's greatest moment as a human being.
Did I learn from it? Of course not. I've already said that we only learn from our own mistakes, if we learn at all. I try real hard not to show favoritism. It's not so difficult as both my girls are wonderful. But apparently I am not very successful. Just yesterday I was told by one of them that she feels that I have a way better relationship with her sister than I have with her. I try to make allowances for her young age and the fact that her nature is approximately 180 degrees from my own. I wish there was a way to show you how much I love you, sweetie, how amazing and wonderful you are. How talented. And smart. And kind and lovely. How proud I am of your achievements, which are completely different from your sister's achievements. I wish I could be a better mother. I wish you made these cookies so I can give you the credit. But, alas, it was your chocoholic sister who came up with this decadent concoction. I still love you very, very much and I promise to try harder.
These cookies are very dangerous. Luckily, even the most chocoholics among us cannot possibly eat more than one or two at a time since these are way too rich for human consumption. You have been warned!!
Eat at your own risk cookies
- 2 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
- 1/4 teaspoon of salt
- 2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter
- 1 1/4 cup packed dark brown sugar
- 1/4 cup granulated sugar
- 1 large egg plus 1 egg yolk
- 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
- 1 tablespoon plain greek yogurt
- 3/4 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
- 1/2 cup milk chocolate chips
- 1/2 cup dark chocolate chips
- 1 small jar of Nutella, chilled in refrigerator (about 8 Tbs)
- Coarse sea salt for sprinkling
- Whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt in a bowl and set aside. Melt butter in a saucepan over medium heat. The butter will begin to foam. Make sure you whisk consistently during this process. After a couple of minutes, the butter will begin to brown on the bottom of the saucepan; continue to whisk and remove from heat as soon as the butter begins to brown and give off a nutty aroma. Immediately transfer the butter to a bowl to prevent burning. Set aside to cool for a few minutes.
- With an electric mixer, mix the butter and sugars until thoroughly blended. Beat in the egg, yolk, vanilla, and yogurt until combined. Add the dry ingredients slowly and beat on low-speed just until combined. Gently fold in all of the chocolate chips.
- Chill your dough for 2 hours in the refrigerator.This step is important. Do not skip it.
- Preheat the oven to 350F. Once dough is chilled measure about 1 1/2 tablespoons of dough and roll into a ball. Flatten the dough ball very thinly into the palm of your hand. Place 1 teaspoon of chilled nutella in the middle and fold dough around it; gently roll into a ball — it doesn’t have to be perfectly rolled! Make sure that the nutella is not seeping out of the dough. Add more dough if necessary. Place dough balls on cookie sheet, 2 inches apart and flatten with your hand VERY gently. (Really only the tops need to be flattened a bit!)
- Bake the cookies 9-11 minutes or until the edges of the cookies begin to turn golden brown. They will look a bit underdone in the middle, but will continue to cook once out of the oven. Cool the cookies on the sheets at least 2 minutes. Sprinkle with a little sea salt. Remove the cooled cookies from the baking sheets after a few minutes and transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Repeat with remaining dough.
Makes 2 dozen
On the other hand: Does anyone have children (any gender, any number, any combination, any ages) who are not convinced that their parents favor their sibling/s over them, and who can, at the drop of a hat, provide endless proof to support this belief?
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Oh, puh-lease
Really? "Few and bad were my years"? Really? First of all, I don't know what more can a person ask for. A life of adventure, romance, wealth and progeny. True, no TV or iPhone. But other than that, Ya'akov was as blessed as can be expected and then some.
Let's look at the things that made his life "bad":
1. He had to run away from home to save himself from Esav. A. And whose fault was that? B. How would he have met the love of his life otherwise?
2. Rachel died in childbirth. This, might I remind you, was a common occurrence in those days. It's tragic, yes, but people have faced greater tragedies and did not grow so bitter.
3. His sons were a bunch of wild hooligans. Whose fault is that? Had he been a better father, he would have had a better control over them.
4. Yosef was believed to have died. OK, that is horrible. Agreed. But at the time of Ya'akov saying his life was short and bad, he had just been reunited with his son. Shouldn't he be giddy with joy?
How about the "short" part of the complaint? Isn't life measured in quality more than quantity? And anyway, when he gave that answer, he was not dead yet. In fact, he lived for 17 years more after that. True, his father and grandfather lived longer. But who in their right mind would want their lives? Not having a child until super old age and then being asked to kill him? Being offered as a sacrifice by your own dad? Ya'akov had an joyful, easy life in comparison. What's to complain about?
The truth is, I can relate. Not only was he Jewish (i.e. master complainer,) but he had spent his life moaning and groaning, never noticing the blessings in his life and instead concentrating on the obstacles. I am exactly like that. I've been fighting my nature for years now, trying to acknowledge my many blessings and ignore the aggravations. Some days I even manage to be happy for a moment or two. But mostly I complain. And, really, there is always something to complain about since life is never perfect. And, as everyone knows, I was promised a perfect life. Wish I could take it back and get a refund.
Anyway, Sunday we visited my friend Debbie's house. We had a cooking competition. Guess who won? Guess who complained before, during and after the competition? Debbie's daughter, Tzipora, called me "a sore winner." That's Ya'akov, right there. He got the birth right, the blessing, the beautiful wife, the 12 sons, the riches and he still isn't happy.
Happiness comes from within, obviously. Yitzchak was calm and happy with his life. Yosef left behind slavery and jail and acknowledged his excellent position. Moshe was humble and uncomplaining (well, most of the time.) Ya'akov had every reason to consider himself blessed. But there must have been something inside him (like there is inside me,) that prevented him from being happy. That made him always find the bad stuff, the annoying things, the misery in every situation. Sometimes I feel for the poor guy. Then I get annoyed with his whining. Because, after all, I, too, am the type to find fault in everything.
Here's the dish that won the competition. It was a collaboration of my cooking prowess, my oldest daughter's knack for combining things that do not seem as if they can be combined but turn out even better than expected, and my youngest daughter's flare for building and organizing unique arrangements.
I can't give you exact amounts. We were in a cooking frenzy and made things up as we went along:
Finding-the-good-in-everything fruit and yogurt parfaits
Mix together in a baking pan: 1 bag of frozen chopped rhubarb, 1 bag of frozen strawberries (chop them a bit), 1 can of drained peaches (chopped), sugar, and flour (I don't know how much. You've made things like that before, haven't you? The sugar is to taste, the flour is to thicken things up a bit.)
In a small bowl mix together flour, brown sugar, a handful of finely chopped walnuts and cinnamon. Rub in cold butter until it looks like wet sand. Again, no idea about amounts. You need enough to loosely cover the fruit in the pan and it should taste good. Play around with it.
Spread the flour/butter mixture evenly over the fruit in the baking pan and bake at 375F until the topping is a bit browned (I'm guessing here, the oven temperature kept changing as people added things and took other dishes away and I just judged the readiness of the dish by the color of the topping. 30 minutes?)
Mix plain (non fat is fine) Greek yogurt with sugar until it's sweet enough to please you.
Layer yogurt in serving glasses (you want dishes that are see-through), add a hefty spoonful of the fruit bake, top with more yogurt and sprinkle with some cinnamon sugar (or maybe just cinnamon, I was not around for that part.)
And then, try not to complain about the fact that I am giving out a recipe with almost no measurements, and concentrate on how good this is. Wish I could do the same, but I am too much Ya'akov's descendant to get by without complaining.
Still, it's the effort that counts. I hope.
Let's look at the things that made his life "bad":
1. He had to run away from home to save himself from Esav. A. And whose fault was that? B. How would he have met the love of his life otherwise?
2. Rachel died in childbirth. This, might I remind you, was a common occurrence in those days. It's tragic, yes, but people have faced greater tragedies and did not grow so bitter.
3. His sons were a bunch of wild hooligans. Whose fault is that? Had he been a better father, he would have had a better control over them.
4. Yosef was believed to have died. OK, that is horrible. Agreed. But at the time of Ya'akov saying his life was short and bad, he had just been reunited with his son. Shouldn't he be giddy with joy?
How about the "short" part of the complaint? Isn't life measured in quality more than quantity? And anyway, when he gave that answer, he was not dead yet. In fact, he lived for 17 years more after that. True, his father and grandfather lived longer. But who in their right mind would want their lives? Not having a child until super old age and then being asked to kill him? Being offered as a sacrifice by your own dad? Ya'akov had an joyful, easy life in comparison. What's to complain about?
The truth is, I can relate. Not only was he Jewish (i.e. master complainer,) but he had spent his life moaning and groaning, never noticing the blessings in his life and instead concentrating on the obstacles. I am exactly like that. I've been fighting my nature for years now, trying to acknowledge my many blessings and ignore the aggravations. Some days I even manage to be happy for a moment or two. But mostly I complain. And, really, there is always something to complain about since life is never perfect. And, as everyone knows, I was promised a perfect life. Wish I could take it back and get a refund.
Anyway, Sunday we visited my friend Debbie's house. We had a cooking competition. Guess who won? Guess who complained before, during and after the competition? Debbie's daughter, Tzipora, called me "a sore winner." That's Ya'akov, right there. He got the birth right, the blessing, the beautiful wife, the 12 sons, the riches and he still isn't happy.
Happiness comes from within, obviously. Yitzchak was calm and happy with his life. Yosef left behind slavery and jail and acknowledged his excellent position. Moshe was humble and uncomplaining (well, most of the time.) Ya'akov had every reason to consider himself blessed. But there must have been something inside him (like there is inside me,) that prevented him from being happy. That made him always find the bad stuff, the annoying things, the misery in every situation. Sometimes I feel for the poor guy. Then I get annoyed with his whining. Because, after all, I, too, am the type to find fault in everything.
Here's the dish that won the competition. It was a collaboration of my cooking prowess, my oldest daughter's knack for combining things that do not seem as if they can be combined but turn out even better than expected, and my youngest daughter's flare for building and organizing unique arrangements.
I can't give you exact amounts. We were in a cooking frenzy and made things up as we went along:
Finding-the-good-in-everything fruit and yogurt parfaits
Mix together in a baking pan: 1 bag of frozen chopped rhubarb, 1 bag of frozen strawberries (chop them a bit), 1 can of drained peaches (chopped), sugar, and flour (I don't know how much. You've made things like that before, haven't you? The sugar is to taste, the flour is to thicken things up a bit.)
In a small bowl mix together flour, brown sugar, a handful of finely chopped walnuts and cinnamon. Rub in cold butter until it looks like wet sand. Again, no idea about amounts. You need enough to loosely cover the fruit in the pan and it should taste good. Play around with it.
Spread the flour/butter mixture evenly over the fruit in the baking pan and bake at 375F until the topping is a bit browned (I'm guessing here, the oven temperature kept changing as people added things and took other dishes away and I just judged the readiness of the dish by the color of the topping. 30 minutes?)
Mix plain (non fat is fine) Greek yogurt with sugar until it's sweet enough to please you.
Layer yogurt in serving glasses (you want dishes that are see-through), add a hefty spoonful of the fruit bake, top with more yogurt and sprinkle with some cinnamon sugar (or maybe just cinnamon, I was not around for that part.)
And then, try not to complain about the fact that I am giving out a recipe with almost no measurements, and concentrate on how good this is. Wish I could do the same, but I am too much Ya'akov's descendant to get by without complaining.
Still, it's the effort that counts. I hope.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Shalom Bayit
Yitzchak always strikes me as someone who got a raw deal. Not only was the akeida a traumatic event (there's an understatement) but the poor guy lost his mom, had twin boys (which can destroy anyone) and was tricked by his wife (on whose behalf he prayed to G-d). And to top it all, he lived between two giants. You can't live down Avraham, who practically invented monotheism; and you can't out do Ya'akov who has fathered no less than 12 (that's twelve!) sons. What's a fella to do?
Some people get all depressed when comparing themselves to others. Some even give up trying to live a meaningful life and just go through the motions. After all, if your father came up with the most revolutionary idea in history and your son established a dynasty while your one claim to glory was not being sacrificed, wouldn't you feel a little unfulfilled? The poor guy never even left his homeland, while his father and his son traveled all over the known world. Talk about low self esteem.
Yet Yitzchak isn't bitter. He isn't resentful. He has every right to act out and be a menace to society yet he is a model citizen. He works hard and raises his herds, wandering from well to well and living a quiet little life, totally content with his place in the universe.
Hold on. Why did he wander from well to well? What was wrong with the first well he dug? And what happened to all the wells his father left him? Ah, well, it seems Yitzchak was a rich man. He inherited plenty from daddy and went on to get even richer simply by hard work and G-d's help. The neighbors were jealous. So, like all horrible neighbors throughout history, they sabotaged his wells by filling them with sand and rocks. Which is probably the dumbest thing one can do in the land of Israel, but that's Philistines for you.
So every time Yitchak had a well, it was filled up and rendered useless. Did he fight with the culprits? Did he try to reason with them, argue with them, sue them? Nope. He picked up and moved away and dug another well in the new place. Four times! Not once does he say "Excuse me, this here is my well, go find your own." Why would he take that bullying? Is it because he was afraid? Maybe he did not know how to fight. But the Torah said only a few verses before that he was a very, very rich man. A rich man can buy protection even if he himself can't fight. Why did he keep moving without protest?
Avraham was a warrior. We know that. Heck, he even argued with G-d. Ya'akov actually fought G-d. What happened to that gene of fighters when it was Yitzchak's turn? Went into hibernation? Why didn't he fight for his rights?
Some people are like that. We would rather accept hardship and less than we deserve in order to avoid a fight. Some call it defeatism. We call it keeping the peace. Even at the price of a sacrifice. What the heck, thought Yitzchak, I am rich enough to be able to dig all the wells that I want. Why fight over this. It will just cause a lot of shouting and pushing and someone might get hurt and really, it's fine, I'll just move. Again.
The world usually has no patience with such people. Pushovers, wusses, weaklings, all kinds of dismissive names are thrown their way. But these people are the ones who keep the world from exploding into a million pieces. Yitzchak wasn't alone. His great-great-great-great-granson, Aharon, was also a peace lover who kept quiet instead of screaming with pain. Where would we be if Yitzchak was into fighting? Did we really want the war in the Middle East to start that long ago?
Poor Yitzchak just wanted to live in peace with everybody and eat some game. Maybe a bison. Or a deer. Or a goat cooked in a special way to taste like deer. No, wait, that's not it. Oh, well.
Like every Jewish woman, I have my own recipe for brisket. Hubby loves it. I even gave it to my MIL and she even used it. But on Rosh Hashana we were at my friend Gail's house and she served brisket (of course) and my little one (the carnivore) said she preferred it to mine. I didn't care. I have no strong attachment to brisket. So I got the recipe and why don't you buy a piece of bison brisket and cook it for this Shabbat to see what Yitzchak was craving.
Gail's brisket
I have decided to bring this recipe exactly as Gail herself sent it to me because I enjoyed her unique style and wouldn't want anyone to miss out on it:
1. Get a nice cut of meat. I've used brisket, 2nd cut, French Roast. Whatever doesn't cost a mortgage payment.
2. At least one package of Onion soup mix, a can of cranberry sauce, some wine, 4 or more onions ,about half a cup of ketchup , salt, (not much, as the rest of the ingredients have enough already) and pepper to taste. The actual percentages are up to you, but I like the background taste to be onion-y. The sweet part is my Polish-Russian heritage (sweet kugel, sweet gefilte fish).
3. Braise the meat in the pan (or pot) in a little bit of olive oil, just enough for the meat not to stick.
Cover the meat with the rest of the ingredients, and set to simmer on the stove for at least an hour and a half. Then let cool for a while, slice the meat and return to the pot. You can leave it overnight and then just put the meat in an aluminum foil covered pan and let it cook at a 350 oven (or even less) while you prepare the rest of the meal. Serve it with the other items for dinner. If there are any leftovers, they will not suffer from re-heating.
Next time you encounter a fight you can afford to lose, ask yourself if it wouldn't be better to simply give in. After all, what can be more important than living without stress and strife?
Oops,
Rich pumpkin loaf
Some people get all depressed when comparing themselves to others. Some even give up trying to live a meaningful life and just go through the motions. After all, if your father came up with the most revolutionary idea in history and your son established a dynasty while your one claim to glory was not being sacrificed, wouldn't you feel a little unfulfilled? The poor guy never even left his homeland, while his father and his son traveled all over the known world. Talk about low self esteem.
Yet Yitzchak isn't bitter. He isn't resentful. He has every right to act out and be a menace to society yet he is a model citizen. He works hard and raises his herds, wandering from well to well and living a quiet little life, totally content with his place in the universe.
Hold on. Why did he wander from well to well? What was wrong with the first well he dug? And what happened to all the wells his father left him? Ah, well, it seems Yitzchak was a rich man. He inherited plenty from daddy and went on to get even richer simply by hard work and G-d's help. The neighbors were jealous. So, like all horrible neighbors throughout history, they sabotaged his wells by filling them with sand and rocks. Which is probably the dumbest thing one can do in the land of Israel, but that's Philistines for you.
So every time Yitchak had a well, it was filled up and rendered useless. Did he fight with the culprits? Did he try to reason with them, argue with them, sue them? Nope. He picked up and moved away and dug another well in the new place. Four times! Not once does he say "Excuse me, this here is my well, go find your own." Why would he take that bullying? Is it because he was afraid? Maybe he did not know how to fight. But the Torah said only a few verses before that he was a very, very rich man. A rich man can buy protection even if he himself can't fight. Why did he keep moving without protest?
Avraham was a warrior. We know that. Heck, he even argued with G-d. Ya'akov actually fought G-d. What happened to that gene of fighters when it was Yitzchak's turn? Went into hibernation? Why didn't he fight for his rights?
Some people are like that. We would rather accept hardship and less than we deserve in order to avoid a fight. Some call it defeatism. We call it keeping the peace. Even at the price of a sacrifice. What the heck, thought Yitzchak, I am rich enough to be able to dig all the wells that I want. Why fight over this. It will just cause a lot of shouting and pushing and someone might get hurt and really, it's fine, I'll just move. Again.
The world usually has no patience with such people. Pushovers, wusses, weaklings, all kinds of dismissive names are thrown their way. But these people are the ones who keep the world from exploding into a million pieces. Yitzchak wasn't alone. His great-great-great-great-granson, Aharon, was also a peace lover who kept quiet instead of screaming with pain. Where would we be if Yitzchak was into fighting? Did we really want the war in the Middle East to start that long ago?
Poor Yitzchak just wanted to live in peace with everybody and eat some game. Maybe a bison. Or a deer. Or a goat cooked in a special way to taste like deer. No, wait, that's not it. Oh, well.
Like every Jewish woman, I have my own recipe for brisket. Hubby loves it. I even gave it to my MIL and she even used it. But on Rosh Hashana we were at my friend Gail's house and she served brisket (of course) and my little one (the carnivore) said she preferred it to mine. I didn't care. I have no strong attachment to brisket. So I got the recipe and why don't you buy a piece of bison brisket and cook it for this Shabbat to see what Yitzchak was craving.
Gail's brisket
I have decided to bring this recipe exactly as Gail herself sent it to me because I enjoyed her unique style and wouldn't want anyone to miss out on it:
1. Get a nice cut of meat. I've used brisket, 2nd cut, French Roast. Whatever doesn't cost a mortgage payment.
2. At least one package of Onion soup mix, a can of cranberry sauce, some wine, 4 or more onions ,about half a cup of ketchup , salt, (not much, as the rest of the ingredients have enough already) and pepper to taste. The actual percentages are up to you, but I like the background taste to be onion-y. The sweet part is my Polish-Russian heritage (sweet kugel, sweet gefilte fish).
3. Braise the meat in the pan (or pot) in a little bit of olive oil, just enough for the meat not to stick.
Cover the meat with the rest of the ingredients, and set to simmer on the stove for at least an hour and a half. Then let cool for a while, slice the meat and return to the pot. You can leave it overnight and then just put the meat in an aluminum foil covered pan and let it cook at a 350 oven (or even less) while you prepare the rest of the meal. Serve it with the other items for dinner. If there are any leftovers, they will not suffer from re-heating.
Next time you encounter a fight you can afford to lose, ask yourself if it wouldn't be better to simply give in. After all, what can be more important than living without stress and strife?
Oops,
Rich pumpkin loaf
4 oz. softened cream cheese
¼ cup butter
1 ¼ cup sugar
2 eggs
1 cup pumpkin puree
1¾ cup flour
1 tsp. baking soda
¼ tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. salt
½ tsp. cinnamon
¼ tsp. ground cloves
- Put softened cheese, butter, and sugar in mixing bowl. Cream together well. Beat in eggs one at a time until blended. Mix in pumpkin.
- In another bowl combine flour, soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, cloves, and walnuts. Stir until thoroughly mixed. Pour all at once over batter. Stir just enough to moisten. Turn into greased 9x5x3 inch loaf pan.
- Bake at 350F for 60-70 minutes until inserted toothpick comes out clean. Cool 10 minutes in pan. Remove to rack to finish cooling.
Makes 1 loaf.
Sorry, everyone. I forgot this was lurking at the bottom of the post. So you will just have to suffer the indignity of an extra recipe that is in no way related to the post. Think o fit as a happy mistake.
Sorry, everyone. I forgot this was lurking at the bottom of the post. So you will just have to suffer the indignity of an extra recipe that is in no way related to the post. Think o fit as a happy mistake.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Confusing woman
This week's parasha raises a lot of questions. We all know how Eliezer picked Rivka. He asked G-d to point her out by a simple test. Except he never got to test any other girl. He had just finished making the deal with G-d when Rivka showed up, he asked her for water and she gave him the correct response. For all we know, this could have happened with any other girl he approached. On the other hand, who in the world answers like Rivka did? Was she nuts? Do you know anyone, anyone at all, who would be so accommodating to a perfect stranger? She was a kind, accommodating kind of person, you say? Really? not 40 verses later, within the same chapter, her family calls her to ask her opinion and her consent. (Which is very weird anyway because they have already agreed that the marriage was divinely ordained.) This was unheard of in the old world. Ask the girl's consent? No girl was ever asked for consent, or even opinion, regarding whom she should/would marry. That's why we have all those great, tragic love stories. So, maybe Rivka's family were ahead of their time? Helllllooo! We're talking about Lavan here! Surely you remember how "kind" and "progressive" he was. I think a much more appropriate explanation for Rivka's family's "progressive thinking" is that they knew her well enough to not want to mess with her. As we see later in her story, this was one formidable woman. She knew what she wanted and never hesitated going after it. She was strong willed and clear headed. This was not a shy little wallflower.
Which gets even stranger when she finally meet her groom-to-be. Apparently Yitzchak was one good looking dude, since Rivka was literally knocked off when she first saw him. She fell off her camel, she was so amazed. But then, this strong willed woman suddenly grows shy. Like, it was perfectly fine to ride for days, if not weeks, in the company of strange men without being covered by a shawl, but the minute you're about to meet the man you're going to marry, you have to cover yourself? Tell me this is a shy, kind little maiden, who would never plan ahead or plot her way to her goals.
Now, please understand me. I am not criticizing her. I applaud her. In a world that was so unfair to women, those who managed to play the odds to their advantage were to be admired. Like Naomi, in the book of Ruth, Rivka used the rules of her society to manipulate her fate and organize events to her benefit. Was she guided by G-d? Of course. Does this take away from her smarts? Not at all. As G-d's partner, Rivka was doing her share in the advancement of His plans, while taking care of her own goals.
So here's to our conniving, plotting, manipulating, brilliant ancestress, without whom we may all have been red headed barbarians. If there were trade routes to the new world available back then, I would have sent her the following recipe. Every woman should have a rich chocolate muffin recipe to get her through difficult times and recharge her, so she can properly handle the men in her life.
Devil's food chocolate chip muffins
2 cup flour
2/3 cup cocoa powder*
3/4 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup milk
1/3 cup plain yogurt
1/3 cup oil
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup chocolate chips, divided
In one bowl mix the first 5 ingredients. In another bowl mix the next 5 ingredients.
Preheat the oven to 350F. Spray or line 12 muffin cups.
Mix the two above mentioned bowls. Add 1/2 cup chocolate chips and mix well.
Spoon into 12 muffin cups.
Divide the other 1/2 cup chips among the muffins, sprinkling the chips on top of the muffins.
Bake for 25 minutes or until ready.
12 muffins.
* I happened to use Hershey's 100% cocoa, special dark, blend of natural and dutched cocoas. (I have the box on my desk and have just copied this from the label) The resulting muffins were almost too rich to eat ('almost' being the operative word.)
It always surprises people to find strong women in ancient texts. But people haven't change so much throughout history. Women used whatever means were available to them, mixed with their natural talents, to shape their destiny. Just like men did. Just like they do today. Are we doing it? Or do we just bow to the "inevitable circumstances"? It's the strong headed, brave and daring people who make it into the pages of history. Hopefully while, at the same time, being kind and drawing water for strangers and their camels.
Which gets even stranger when she finally meet her groom-to-be. Apparently Yitzchak was one good looking dude, since Rivka was literally knocked off when she first saw him. She fell off her camel, she was so amazed. But then, this strong willed woman suddenly grows shy. Like, it was perfectly fine to ride for days, if not weeks, in the company of strange men without being covered by a shawl, but the minute you're about to meet the man you're going to marry, you have to cover yourself? Tell me this is a shy, kind little maiden, who would never plan ahead or plot her way to her goals.
Now, please understand me. I am not criticizing her. I applaud her. In a world that was so unfair to women, those who managed to play the odds to their advantage were to be admired. Like Naomi, in the book of Ruth, Rivka used the rules of her society to manipulate her fate and organize events to her benefit. Was she guided by G-d? Of course. Does this take away from her smarts? Not at all. As G-d's partner, Rivka was doing her share in the advancement of His plans, while taking care of her own goals.
So here's to our conniving, plotting, manipulating, brilliant ancestress, without whom we may all have been red headed barbarians. If there were trade routes to the new world available back then, I would have sent her the following recipe. Every woman should have a rich chocolate muffin recipe to get her through difficult times and recharge her, so she can properly handle the men in her life.
Devil's food chocolate chip muffins
2 cup flour
2/3 cup cocoa powder*
3/4 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup milk
1/3 cup plain yogurt
1/3 cup oil
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup chocolate chips, divided
In one bowl mix the first 5 ingredients. In another bowl mix the next 5 ingredients.
Preheat the oven to 350F. Spray or line 12 muffin cups.
Mix the two above mentioned bowls. Add 1/2 cup chocolate chips and mix well.
Spoon into 12 muffin cups.
Divide the other 1/2 cup chips among the muffins, sprinkling the chips on top of the muffins.
Bake for 25 minutes or until ready.
12 muffins.
* I happened to use Hershey's 100% cocoa, special dark, blend of natural and dutched cocoas. (I have the box on my desk and have just copied this from the label) The resulting muffins were almost too rich to eat ('almost' being the operative word.)
It always surprises people to find strong women in ancient texts. But people haven't change so much throughout history. Women used whatever means were available to them, mixed with their natural talents, to shape their destiny. Just like men did. Just like they do today. Are we doing it? Or do we just bow to the "inevitable circumstances"? It's the strong headed, brave and daring people who make it into the pages of history. Hopefully while, at the same time, being kind and drawing water for strangers and their camels.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Renew Our Days As Days Of Old
We visited Neve Tzedek this week. This is the first neighborhood of Tel Aviv and we were lucky enough to have as a guide hubby's aunt's husband, Shlomo, who was raised in this neighborhood and not only knew it like the back of his hand but also related personal anecdotes (Like shlepping wood for the water heater at his friend's house. Apparently, the rest of the neighbors were too poor to have such luxury and went to the public bathhouse, which we also visited.)
We saw the house (and balcony off the window) of Literature Nobel prize winner, S.Y. Agnon. We saw the Famous Sh'loosh house (still not renovated, alas.) We saw where Shlomo's sister went to school (now it's a performing arts center.) We saw old, old synagogues and old, old factories of things that no one have any use for anymore.
But it was lovely. Because, while this place that was once the richest, fanciest, liveliest neighborhood in the new city by the sea had later fallen into disrepair (so Shlomo basically grew up in a slum), today it is renovated to within an inch of its life. The narrow streets and alleyways teem with people. Specialty stores that sell unique clothing, hand made jewelry and extraordinary art reside in what used to be dim one room houses and hole-in-the-wall "factories". Each stone is lovingly restored and even new houses are built in the style of the older building in order to keep the authentic look and feel. Out of the slums, the ruins and the dirt, a wonderful, beautiful place was reborn. It is again a desirable place to live, to work and to create.
What made the change? Love. Someone walked around and saw beauty under the layers of dirt and neglect. Someone wanted to make it pretty and useful again. Someone loved it enough to bring it back to life.
On Tisha B'Av, this week, we mourned the destruction of the Temple (both of them) and various other disasters our people have encountered. Places and people who once were celebrated and glorious have fallen into disrepair and ruin. Only love can bring them back. Only when someone will look at these places and see the beauty beneath the neglect and care enough to work hard to bring them back to their old glory, will they flourish again. And the same goes for the people. Only when we will care enough about others, look at them and see their inner beauty and love them enough to work hard to get along with them, only then will our nation be renewed "as in days of old." And only then will we be worthy of a renewed Temple.
In this week's parasha, Moshe keeps driving this point home: don't forget what I taught you, because forgetting the good and the right will lead to ruin and disaster.
It did, you know. Which is what we mourn. And also what we can fix and renew. We can make it beautiful again if we can just see the beauty within and be willing to work hard at renovating it.
Shlomo's wife, Vida (hubby's favorite aunt) makes this awesome cake that is totally worth ruining your diet for (I don't bother with diets as it seems like a lost cause by now.) The only drawback is that you need to get some dairy products that are common in Israel but not so easy to find in America. Practically any store that carries Israeli products should have them, though (even Costco....) so just look for them.
Khaleh Vida's unbelievably yummy cake
4 eggs, separated
1 cup sugar, divided
27 oz (750 grams) Israeli white cheese (this is a soft, spreadable cheese) either 5% or 9% (when you find it, you'll see the % on the package)
2 heaping Tbs corn starch
1 package Vanilla Instant Pudding, divided
1 cup milk
1 cup heavy cream
Preheat oven to 375F.
Beat 4 egg whites with 1/2 cup sugar until stiff peaks form. Set aside.
Mix well: 4 egg yolks, 1/2 cup sugar, white cheese, corn starch and Instant pudding. Fold beaten egg whites into the mixture.
Spread in a 9x13 inch pan, lightly greased.
Put into the oven and immediately lower the heat to 325F. Bake for 35-40 minutes. Turn the oven off and leave cake inside for another 10 minutes.
Cool cake completely.
Meanwhile, beat together milk, cream and the rest of the pudding package. Spread evenly over cooled cake.
Keep in fridge, serve well chilled, think carefully before you share it.
Dear G-d, give us wisdom and kindness. Teach us to see beneath the surface of people and places, into the inner beauty that is the divine spark You have placed inside each and every one of us. Give us the compassion to do what is necessary to clean off the dirt and reveal the beauty in this world You have so lovingly created for us. Renew our days as days of old so we will have the chance to sit together in peace and share the above-mentioned delicious cake. I will personally save You a piece.
We saw the house (and balcony off the window) of Literature Nobel prize winner, S.Y. Agnon. We saw the Famous Sh'loosh house (still not renovated, alas.) We saw where Shlomo's sister went to school (now it's a performing arts center.) We saw old, old synagogues and old, old factories of things that no one have any use for anymore.
But it was lovely. Because, while this place that was once the richest, fanciest, liveliest neighborhood in the new city by the sea had later fallen into disrepair (so Shlomo basically grew up in a slum), today it is renovated to within an inch of its life. The narrow streets and alleyways teem with people. Specialty stores that sell unique clothing, hand made jewelry and extraordinary art reside in what used to be dim one room houses and hole-in-the-wall "factories". Each stone is lovingly restored and even new houses are built in the style of the older building in order to keep the authentic look and feel. Out of the slums, the ruins and the dirt, a wonderful, beautiful place was reborn. It is again a desirable place to live, to work and to create.
What made the change? Love. Someone walked around and saw beauty under the layers of dirt and neglect. Someone wanted to make it pretty and useful again. Someone loved it enough to bring it back to life.
On Tisha B'Av, this week, we mourned the destruction of the Temple (both of them) and various other disasters our people have encountered. Places and people who once were celebrated and glorious have fallen into disrepair and ruin. Only love can bring them back. Only when someone will look at these places and see the beauty beneath the neglect and care enough to work hard to bring them back to their old glory, will they flourish again. And the same goes for the people. Only when we will care enough about others, look at them and see their inner beauty and love them enough to work hard to get along with them, only then will our nation be renewed "as in days of old." And only then will we be worthy of a renewed Temple.
In this week's parasha, Moshe keeps driving this point home: don't forget what I taught you, because forgetting the good and the right will lead to ruin and disaster.
It did, you know. Which is what we mourn. And also what we can fix and renew. We can make it beautiful again if we can just see the beauty within and be willing to work hard at renovating it.
Shlomo's wife, Vida (hubby's favorite aunt) makes this awesome cake that is totally worth ruining your diet for (I don't bother with diets as it seems like a lost cause by now.) The only drawback is that you need to get some dairy products that are common in Israel but not so easy to find in America. Practically any store that carries Israeli products should have them, though (even Costco....) so just look for them.
Khaleh Vida's unbelievably yummy cake
4 eggs, separated
1 cup sugar, divided
27 oz (750 grams) Israeli white cheese (this is a soft, spreadable cheese) either 5% or 9% (when you find it, you'll see the % on the package)
2 heaping Tbs corn starch
1 package Vanilla Instant Pudding, divided
1 cup milk
1 cup heavy cream
Preheat oven to 375F.
Beat 4 egg whites with 1/2 cup sugar until stiff peaks form. Set aside.
Mix well: 4 egg yolks, 1/2 cup sugar, white cheese, corn starch and Instant pudding. Fold beaten egg whites into the mixture.
Spread in a 9x13 inch pan, lightly greased.
Put into the oven and immediately lower the heat to 325F. Bake for 35-40 minutes. Turn the oven off and leave cake inside for another 10 minutes.
Cool cake completely.
Meanwhile, beat together milk, cream and the rest of the pudding package. Spread evenly over cooled cake.
Keep in fridge, serve well chilled, think carefully before you share it.
Dear G-d, give us wisdom and kindness. Teach us to see beneath the surface of people and places, into the inner beauty that is the divine spark You have placed inside each and every one of us. Give us the compassion to do what is necessary to clean off the dirt and reveal the beauty in this world You have so lovingly created for us. Renew our days as days of old so we will have the chance to sit together in peace and share the above-mentioned delicious cake. I will personally save You a piece.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Yielding to temptation
Did you ever have this dilemma? If you don't let your kids eat some junk food, they will develop an uncontrollable desire for it and fall upon it as locusts when they see it at parties. On the other hand, if you do let them eat junk, that means it's available in your house and, in the dead of night, when no one can see you (which means these calories don't count) you fall upon it as a locust yourself. My list of foods I cannot keep in the house includes (but is not limited to): potato chips (any chips, really), pizza, any kind of nuts and any type of cheese. Strangely enough, I am never tempted by chocolate or candy.
Christians have Lent, when they vow to forgo things they like. Maybe if I take a vow, invoking G-d's name and all, I could look at the chips/pizza/nuts/cheese and muster enough willpower to leave them alone? Right.
There are quite a few sages who said that we should not forgo the good things in life that are permitted by Torah law. The Talmudic sage Rav said that in the world to come we will have to account for all the good food we refused to eat. I love it. It's like a Talmudic permission to eat chips. Huh!
Meanwhile, in this week's parasha we meet a person (and the Torah specifically says "man or woman") who chooses to forgo certain foods (namely: anything that came from the grapevine.) While some of the sages (like Ramban) thought it a worthwhile pursuit (since that person is trying to attain a higher level of holiness, which can benefit the whole community), others are not so impressed. Ibn Ezra (a Jewish scholar in Spain during the Middle Ages) said it was a wonder that anyone would choose to do this. Shimon the Just (a high priest in the days of the 2nd temple) refused to eat the offering brought by such a person (to which he was entitled) because he was worried about the horrid sin that had led that person to take on that vow in the first place. So, all in all, I believe Judaism is not very fond of forgoing good food and drink. Phew, that's a relief.
Of course, like with every other pleasure, Judaism promotes moderation (Rambam was very big on moderation). But what's the point of eating yummy foods if you have to limit yourself to tiny amounts?
The above explains my waistline.
So here is a dessert that symbolizes (at least for me) the ultimate indulgence -
Tiramisu
1 1/2 Lbs Mascarpone cheese (Please don't substitute. You can get this with a hechsher and the whole point is to use rich, pleasurable stuff, no?)
1 cup powdered sugar
1 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup cold strong coffee (made with 2 tsp Nescafe and 1/3 cup water. stir well)
1 Tbs Rum (use real stuff or extract)
1/2 Lb Lady's fingers cookies, each cut into 2 or 3 pieces
Cream together cheese and powdered sugar until completely combined.
Gradually pour in heavy cream, whipping at medium speed, until you have a light, airy cream.
Change mixer's speed to low and add 1/2 of the cold coffee. Mix only until incorporated.
Mix the rum into the rest of the coffee.
Dip each cookie piece in the coffee and rum mixture until damp but not soggy.
In pretty serving bowls (or wine goblets) arrange layers of cookies and cream, alternating, until you run out of either or both. You can put the cream in a pastry bag and create pretty designs. I am not that patient.
Chill, covered. Will keep up to 2 days in fridge (by which time it mysteriously disappears or acquires every single smell in the fridge.)
This makes 4 or 5 servings (depending on the goblets size, naturally)
There is a story I love about a very old and respected Rabbi who, when asked what he plans to do for his 80th birthday, answered that he plans a trip to the Swiss Alps. His students were dismayed. At his age? to the Alps? Whatever for? Said the Rabbi "It is because I am at the end of my life that I must see the Alps. Soon enough I will come before the seat of glory and the Master of the Universe will ask me 'You didn't go to see my Alps?' What am I going to say to that?"
Life is full of suffering and misery. But G-d has created so many pleasures and joys for us to enjoy. Never miss and opportunity to have fun and enjoy the good stuff. Believe me, you're not going to miss out on the misery. It will catch up with you the minute you're done with the fun.
And remember you will have to account for every yummy food you have not eaten in your life, so eat, Bubbeleh, eat.
Christians have Lent, when they vow to forgo things they like. Maybe if I take a vow, invoking G-d's name and all, I could look at the chips/pizza/nuts/cheese and muster enough willpower to leave them alone? Right.
There are quite a few sages who said that we should not forgo the good things in life that are permitted by Torah law. The Talmudic sage Rav said that in the world to come we will have to account for all the good food we refused to eat. I love it. It's like a Talmudic permission to eat chips. Huh!
Meanwhile, in this week's parasha we meet a person (and the Torah specifically says "man or woman") who chooses to forgo certain foods (namely: anything that came from the grapevine.) While some of the sages (like Ramban) thought it a worthwhile pursuit (since that person is trying to attain a higher level of holiness, which can benefit the whole community), others are not so impressed. Ibn Ezra (a Jewish scholar in Spain during the Middle Ages) said it was a wonder that anyone would choose to do this. Shimon the Just (a high priest in the days of the 2nd temple) refused to eat the offering brought by such a person (to which he was entitled) because he was worried about the horrid sin that had led that person to take on that vow in the first place. So, all in all, I believe Judaism is not very fond of forgoing good food and drink. Phew, that's a relief.
Of course, like with every other pleasure, Judaism promotes moderation (Rambam was very big on moderation). But what's the point of eating yummy foods if you have to limit yourself to tiny amounts?
The above explains my waistline.
So here is a dessert that symbolizes (at least for me) the ultimate indulgence -
Tiramisu
1 1/2 Lbs Mascarpone cheese (Please don't substitute. You can get this with a hechsher and the whole point is to use rich, pleasurable stuff, no?)
1 cup powdered sugar
1 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup cold strong coffee (made with 2 tsp Nescafe and 1/3 cup water. stir well)
1 Tbs Rum (use real stuff or extract)
1/2 Lb Lady's fingers cookies, each cut into 2 or 3 pieces
Cream together cheese and powdered sugar until completely combined.
Gradually pour in heavy cream, whipping at medium speed, until you have a light, airy cream.
Change mixer's speed to low and add 1/2 of the cold coffee. Mix only until incorporated.
Mix the rum into the rest of the coffee.
Dip each cookie piece in the coffee and rum mixture until damp but not soggy.
In pretty serving bowls (or wine goblets) arrange layers of cookies and cream, alternating, until you run out of either or both. You can put the cream in a pastry bag and create pretty designs. I am not that patient.
Chill, covered. Will keep up to 2 days in fridge (by which time it mysteriously disappears or acquires every single smell in the fridge.)
This makes 4 or 5 servings (depending on the goblets size, naturally)
There is a story I love about a very old and respected Rabbi who, when asked what he plans to do for his 80th birthday, answered that he plans a trip to the Swiss Alps. His students were dismayed. At his age? to the Alps? Whatever for? Said the Rabbi "It is because I am at the end of my life that I must see the Alps. Soon enough I will come before the seat of glory and the Master of the Universe will ask me 'You didn't go to see my Alps?' What am I going to say to that?"
Life is full of suffering and misery. But G-d has created so many pleasures and joys for us to enjoy. Never miss and opportunity to have fun and enjoy the good stuff. Believe me, you're not going to miss out on the misery. It will catch up with you the minute you're done with the fun.
And remember you will have to account for every yummy food you have not eaten in your life, so eat, Bubbeleh, eat.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Fifty shades of doing nothing
50 is a heavy weight number. When one turns fifty, one is no longer a youngster. That is not to say that life is over (despite what young(er) people think) but it is a sort of middle point. A good place to pause and take stock.
In ancient times, people did not live as long as we do now. By the age of fifty, one was already an elder, revered for his or her wisdom and getting lots of respect and consideration. Alas, today it is not so. Life expectancy being what it is, fifty is expected to be the beginning of the next great adventure.
Well, I, as we all know, am a rebel at heart and I refuse to fulfill expectations. I am a great believer in the old ways (which sort of clashes with the 'rebel' thing but that's the beauty of being annoying). So I have decided, upon turning fifty, that I am going to slow down, pause, take stock and so on. My body shouted with joy: "Finally, we get to sit on our backside and do nothing. Just as we always tried to get her to do. Yay." My mind was confused: "Are we now to stop thinking? Or increase activity? Are we supposed to be wise or doddering?" My soul was very happy: "At last. Some peace and quiet. Time to smell the roses and all that."
The world, as I should have known, was not happy. At all. Apparently people, especially women really are expected to invent a whole new "Me" at this age. One is supposed to start a rigorous regimen of exercise, get all toned up and in shape. Also, one is to find a new and exciting job (or at least a hobby) that will challenge us in ways we have never been challenged before. One is supposed to rediscover romance, to finally read all the great books that will make us smart and sophisticated, and to be calm and sure of oneself. That is not my idea of a relaxing old age. I am more the type to sit at the tent opening and watch the youngsters bring the herd in as the evening falls gently and the (other) women are putting the finishing touches on the evening meal. Like I always said, I was born into the wrong century.
So I have to read great books (notice which of the expectations I picked to remember). Fine. I read the bible. Can't argue with the "great" part. And in this week's parasha, I find divine justification for my way of looking at fifty. The whole 25th chapter of Vayikra talks about the Jubilee year that comes every 50 years. And what do you do at the year 50? You have a full year of Shabbat. You mustn't plow or plant or pick fruit or grain. You rest.
So there.
Of course, no one asked my family if they approve of this "rest" idea for Imma. They do not. Don't get me wrong, they don't demand that I cook or clean or do the laundry (well, OK, the laundry is a sore point). If I don't cook, they eat junk food. If I don't clean, we live in a garbage dump and everyone seems OK with it. So what can I do? I can't stand a filthy house and I sort of like to cook. So fifty so far looks pretty much like 49.
Sigh.
So no tent (I hate camping anyway), no herds coming in (Sheep smell bad anyway) and no evening gently falling (That is usually the time I have to drive my kids back and forth from various after school activities.) What's left?
Here is something that was made by a younger woman (well, girl, actually.) When we were at my friend Debbie's house for some event or other, we had the following dessert that my girls deemed excellent. And it was made by Debbie's daughter, Sara Aliza. I did not have to do a thing except sit back and enjoy. As befitting my status and advanced age.
Sara Aliza's Nutty Chocolate Joongees
(I had nothing to do with the name, BTW)
1 package Oreos (I have no idea what that means and, seeing as I am supposed to sit back and relax, I don't care, either)
3/4 stick margarine (that's about 6 Tbs)
9 Viennese crunch bars (See note about the first ingredient)
2 cups heavy cream (non dairy)*
1 package instant chocolate pudding
1 package instant vanilla pudding
2 cups non dairy milk (soy, almond, whatever)*
* I suppose you can use all dairy stuff, depending on what you're using this for.
In a blender or food processor, process the first three ingredients until all crumbly.
Make both puddings according to package instructions, using one cup milk and one cup heavy cream.
In a 9x13 pan, spread a third of the crumbs mixture. Top with the chocolate pudding. Press the pudding into the crumbs and freeze until set.
Repeat with another 1/3 of the crumbs, the vanilla pudding and the rest of the crumbs. Freeze.
To serve, let stand at room temperature for 20 minutes or so (just enough that you can spoon it out.)
If you don't faint from the fat and sugar content, you are way too young to qualify as an elder.
In ancient times, people did not live as long as we do now. By the age of fifty, one was already an elder, revered for his or her wisdom and getting lots of respect and consideration. Alas, today it is not so. Life expectancy being what it is, fifty is expected to be the beginning of the next great adventure.
Well, I, as we all know, am a rebel at heart and I refuse to fulfill expectations. I am a great believer in the old ways (which sort of clashes with the 'rebel' thing but that's the beauty of being annoying). So I have decided, upon turning fifty, that I am going to slow down, pause, take stock and so on. My body shouted with joy: "Finally, we get to sit on our backside and do nothing. Just as we always tried to get her to do. Yay." My mind was confused: "Are we now to stop thinking? Or increase activity? Are we supposed to be wise or doddering?" My soul was very happy: "At last. Some peace and quiet. Time to smell the roses and all that."
The world, as I should have known, was not happy. At all. Apparently people, especially women really are expected to invent a whole new "Me" at this age. One is supposed to start a rigorous regimen of exercise, get all toned up and in shape. Also, one is to find a new and exciting job (or at least a hobby) that will challenge us in ways we have never been challenged before. One is supposed to rediscover romance, to finally read all the great books that will make us smart and sophisticated, and to be calm and sure of oneself. That is not my idea of a relaxing old age. I am more the type to sit at the tent opening and watch the youngsters bring the herd in as the evening falls gently and the (other) women are putting the finishing touches on the evening meal. Like I always said, I was born into the wrong century.
So I have to read great books (notice which of the expectations I picked to remember). Fine. I read the bible. Can't argue with the "great" part. And in this week's parasha, I find divine justification for my way of looking at fifty. The whole 25th chapter of Vayikra talks about the Jubilee year that comes every 50 years. And what do you do at the year 50? You have a full year of Shabbat. You mustn't plow or plant or pick fruit or grain. You rest.
So there.
Of course, no one asked my family if they approve of this "rest" idea for Imma. They do not. Don't get me wrong, they don't demand that I cook or clean or do the laundry (well, OK, the laundry is a sore point). If I don't cook, they eat junk food. If I don't clean, we live in a garbage dump and everyone seems OK with it. So what can I do? I can't stand a filthy house and I sort of like to cook. So fifty so far looks pretty much like 49.
Sigh.
So no tent (I hate camping anyway), no herds coming in (Sheep smell bad anyway) and no evening gently falling (That is usually the time I have to drive my kids back and forth from various after school activities.) What's left?
Here is something that was made by a younger woman (well, girl, actually.) When we were at my friend Debbie's house for some event or other, we had the following dessert that my girls deemed excellent. And it was made by Debbie's daughter, Sara Aliza. I did not have to do a thing except sit back and enjoy. As befitting my status and advanced age.
Sara Aliza's Nutty Chocolate Joongees
(I had nothing to do with the name, BTW)
1 package Oreos (I have no idea what that means and, seeing as I am supposed to sit back and relax, I don't care, either)
3/4 stick margarine (that's about 6 Tbs)
9 Viennese crunch bars (See note about the first ingredient)
2 cups heavy cream (non dairy)*
1 package instant chocolate pudding
1 package instant vanilla pudding
2 cups non dairy milk (soy, almond, whatever)*
* I suppose you can use all dairy stuff, depending on what you're using this for.
In a blender or food processor, process the first three ingredients until all crumbly.
Make both puddings according to package instructions, using one cup milk and one cup heavy cream.
In a 9x13 pan, spread a third of the crumbs mixture. Top with the chocolate pudding. Press the pudding into the crumbs and freeze until set.
Repeat with another 1/3 of the crumbs, the vanilla pudding and the rest of the crumbs. Freeze.
To serve, let stand at room temperature for 20 minutes or so (just enough that you can spoon it out.)
If you don't faint from the fat and sugar content, you are way too young to qualify as an elder.
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