Pesach, or Passover, was celebrated at my humble abode last night. Why, may you ask? Well, because it's fun. That's the main reason. It came to be because Luc's friend Malissa, who is Jewish, typically invites Luc to her home to celebrate Passover. This year, however, the last night of Passover is the night of Luc's choir concert. Hence he could not go. Malissa then decided to bring Pesach to Princeton. We cook the entire thing from scratch. Matzoh-ball soup, sweet potato tzimmes, apple-walnut charoset, pot roast, matzoh, apple-pecan salad, chocolate dipped macaroons, and caramel matzoh crunch. Oh, and we made matzoh brei for breakfast the next morning (it tastes like french toast: matzoh mixed up with eggs and fried in a skillet). We of course had Manischewitz wine. Tastes like grape juice. Maybe that's why Luc drank it so fast. For the story of how our seder went, I direct you to the pictures I took, currently residing in their own album on my "photos" page. The pictures tell the story, complete with captions and time stamps. And now, I leave you with this:
The Two-Minute Haggadah
A PASSOVER SERVICE FOR THE IMPATIENT.
By Michael Rubiner
Opening prayers:
Thanks, God, for creating wine. (Drink wine.)
Thanks for creating produce. (Eat parsley.)
Overview: Once we were slaves in Egypt. Now we're free. That's why we're doing this.
Four questions:
1. What's up with the matzoh?
2. What's the deal with horseradish?
3. What's with the dipping of the herbs?
4. What's this whole slouching at the table business?
Answers:
1. When we left Egypt, we were in a hurry. There was no time for making decent bread.
2. Life was bitter, like horseradish.
3. It's called symbolism.
4. Free people get to slouch.
A funny story: Once, these five rabbis talked all night, then it was morning. (Heat soup now.)
The four kinds of children and how to deal with them:
Wise child—explain Passover.
Simple child—explain Passover slowly.
Silent child—explain Passover loudly.
Wicked child—browbeat in front of the relatives.
Speaking of children: We hid some matzoh. Whoever finds it gets five bucks.
The story of Passover: It's a long time ago. We're slaves in Egypt. Pharaoh is a nightmare. We cry out for help. God brings plagues upon the Egyptians. We escape, bake some matzoh. God parts the Red Sea. We make it through; the Egyptians aren't so lucky. We wander 40 years in the desert, eat manna, get the Torah, wind up in Israel, get a new temple, enjoy several years without being persecuted again. (Let brisket cool now.)
The 10 Plagues: Blood, Frogs, Lice—you name it.
The singing of "Dayenu":
If God had gotten us out of Egypt and not punished our enemies, it would've been enough. If he'd punished our enemies and not parted the Red Sea, it would've been enough.
If he'd parted the Red Sea—(Remove gefilte fish from refrigerator now.)
Eat matzoh. Drink more wine. Slouch.
Thanks again, God, for everything.
SERVE MEAL
Pesach, or Passover, was celebrated at my humble abode last night. Why, may you ask? Well, because it's fun. That's the main reason. It came to be because Luc's friend Malissa, who is Jewish, typically invites Luc to her home to celebrate Passover. This year, however, the last night of Passover is the night of Luc's choir concert. Hence he could not go. Malissa then decided to bring Pesach to Princeton. We cook the entire thing from scratch. Matzoh-ball soup, sweet potato tzimmes, apple-walnut charoset, pot roast, matzoh, apple-pecan salad, chocolate dipped macaroons, and caramel matzoh crunch. Oh, and we made matzoh brei for breakfast the next morning (it tastes like french toast: matzoh mixed up with eggs and fried in a skillet). We of course had Manischewitz wine. Tastes like grape juice. Maybe that's why Luc drank it so fast. For the story of how our seder went, I direct you to the pictures I took, currently residing in their own album on my "photos" page. The pictures tell the story, complete with captions and time stamps. And now, I leave you with this:
