Ezekiel's Daughter

Most things went well.  Better than last Thanksgiving.  The glasses, plates and silverware got on the table well in advance.  The food was prepared and kept warm. My guests brought wonderful food.

 

There was some last minute madness.  As mentioned yesterday, I decided that I needed a milder charoset.  I despaired of driving to Whole Food for more dates.  At four, I remembered that there is an Arab market on the westbank.  (So, thank the cousins for charoset!)  I should remember that charoset is a small part of the meal.  So, in desperation, don’t buy 4 pounds if the recipe calls for 2—even if you plan to take charoset to another Seder.  Now I have dates coming out of my ears!

 

This particular lamb stew was more fatty, so another desperate run was to Wal-Mart to buy a turkey baster.  Used in reverse to remove the oil floating on top of the pot.  Oh, and suddenly realizing that stew requires bowls and not plates.  So I had to pull bowls down out of the cabinet and give them a quick wash.    Next time, a main course that doesn’t require more dishes—or let my guest provide the main course.  Zataia made a wondered herb chicken  dish and orange chicken dish.

 

I didn’t get to bed until midnight but everything but glasses was put away when I went to bed.  Tonight, grape  juice I hope.  4 glasses of wine just destroyed me last night.  I am so glad that I didn’t have to drive home!

 

 

 

 

 

 

* Wikipedia calls this Plan-Do-Check-Act.  However, it was taught as “adjust” where I work.  On reading the wiki definition, the fourth step is the same .  I think the word adjust makes more sense. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PDCA

And I have a seder to attend tonight!   My body's gonna ache when I get back to the gym.

Daily Life
Driving home from Temple and at the corner of Post and Woodmere sits a pickup truck.  Usually, it is someone selling shrimp.  Today, a woman in shorts leans up against the tailgate and 2 kids, a boy and a girl, are pushing the merchandise.  The girl has the sign—a magnetic board—not the easiest thing to handle.  Avon Sale! it reads.  The young boy, maybe around 10, is jumping up and down wagging a container of Skin-so-Soft.  He looks proud to be a salesman where the girl is more measured.  She is holding that heavy board after all.  It was actually a charming, if surprising scene.  What happens when the shrimp truck shows up for that spot? 

Passover
As for me…the race to Passover begins.  I finished gathering the info for taxes today and passed it over to an accountant.  I started in March but didn’t finish until yesterday when I had half a day off.  (Appropriately enough, I finish just before revising a scene in which taxes are mentioned.)   Gathering up all of those scraps of paper is a royal pain. 

But Passover: there is cleaning to be done and a menu to be considered.  I usually try to prepare a Sephardic type menu.  No chicken soup here.  If I have any Ashkenazic ancestors, they should have spoken up earlier.  In the absence of any Jewish heritage, I chose to associate food choice with places closer to Africa.  If I knew actual African and Jewish foods, I would try to fix those.  The one time that I asked someone, I was told that I would never be able to find the ingredients here in the U.S.  I began trying to include a dish that symbolized both freedom and slavery.  Like okra and tomatoes.  Okra, according to Black lore, was brought to this county by African slaves.  And tomatoes are native to the U.S.  (Yes, Italy had no tomatoes on its pasta until after 1492.)  I don’t know what that food should be this year.  Maybe I should stick to okra and tomatoes.  So there is always a Sephardic charoset on the table and an Ashkenazic charoset if I have anyone there who may want one.  Matzoth is a given.  For the main dish, I’ve fixed in past years, lamb, brisket, or some type of chicken.  Since one guest is allergic to garlic, I am going to have to consider that. 

Entertainment and Enrichment
I had a really fantastic time last night.  I went to the second part of the program that I mentioned last week. 



After the performance, John O’Neal and his students still felt like talking.  So I went to dinner with them.  Luckily New Orleans still has a few late night eating places around.  We ended up at the Moonlight Café—open until 3 a.m., bless them.    I got home at 1:45 a.m. and still had to get up for service this morning.