There’s an oft repeated one-liner that distills the essence of every major Jewish holiday to “They tried to kill us. We survived. Let’s eat!” While Alef can’t vouch for the accuracy of that assessment (in fact, we’re pretty sure it’s mostly false), there’s no question that eating plays a vital, almost mythical role in Jewish life and tradition. From the ancient laws of Kashrut which govern what and how traditionally observant Jews eat, to the modern manifestations of sustainable food communities, Jews and Food have become as inextricably linked as Latkes and Applesauce (or is it Latkes and Sour Cream?)
For the next few weeks, Alef will feature stories by food fans, foodies, gourmets and gormandizers, alike. Whether it’s explaining the decision to eat pork, or describing life as a personal chef, all of these stories will try to answer the age old question (No, not “What makes kosher salt kosher?“):
“Why do I eat what I eat?”
-Alef
Photo by bingbing, licensed under Creative Commons.
Why I Eat What I Eat
100% Organic, 100% Kosher
Eat With Eli
The Hostess With The Mostess (Hummus)
A Love-Hate Relationship with Food
Eating Israel
One For the Recipe Books
Keeping Kosher?
by Michelle Rattner
When my parents got married, they decided to keep a kosher home so my grandparents could eat there when they visited. So it’s always been second nature for me to have some sort of dietary restriction. Growing up, I always found it a little odd when my friends’ parents could just drop by the grocery store and pick up food rather than drive 30 minutes to go to the kosher butcher. To this day, my mother still comments that the neighbors have it so much easier than she does when it comes to eating meat.
Though we kept a kosher home, as soon as we left the house, we were able to eat whatever we pleased. When I was four years old, I went to a neighbor’s house for lunch and came home asking my mom to pick up some ham for a ham and cheese sandwich. She quickly explained to me that we don’t eat ham at home.
Not too long ago, my best friend since middle school came to visit my new home in New York. I mapped out the kitchen for her so she wouldn’t mix up the dairy and meat dishes, and she was shocked to see that I still kept kosher. But it has become second nature to me now. I don’t daven (pray) three times a day the way some observant Jews do, but this is my way of keeping in touch with Judaism on a daily basis.
I met my boyfriend, Jonathan, at a NEXT Shabbat meal he hosted. I had been looking for a Shabbat meal, and he had generously opened his home to people like me. Over the course of our relationship, I brought up the question “would he ever keep a kosher home?” He had started working at Hazon, a Jewish environmental organization, and had already begun to consider giving up shellfish and pork himself. He agreed that, yes, he might, but countered with a question of his own: Would I buy kosher, organic meat? To me, it made no difference. I already paid more money for meat than the average Joe, so what was an extra dollar or two? After joining a Tuv Ha’Aretz through Hazon, a Community-Supported Agriculture program enabling the Jewish community to support local, sustainable agriculture, and having learned more about the shocking state of the meat industry in America, I quickly began to think that we should not only start keeping kosher, but also “keep” organic. Jonathan’s interpretation of the traditional kosher laws made him think that kosher food can’t really be made in a factory farm, because of humanitarian issues that may be violated there. I admit, it does seem exceedingly hard to train undocumented workers to say the proper Hebrew prayers before schecting (ritually slaughtering) animals, all while having INS or ICE agents watching them closely.
Jon and I have found some fun ways to keep organic- kosher, our own way, together; We only eat meat on Shabbat and holidays; we pick up fresh, locally-grown produce from our CSA and the farmers market, and we make weekly trips to Whole Foods.
Some people may think that keeping kosher makes life difficult and boring. I’ve heard countless comments on how dried out and bland kosher meats and organic products can taste. I get tired of fielding questions like, “But think how amazing cheese would taste on that roast beef sandwich?” I have a sneaking suspicion that these critics are picking the wrong products off the shelves, or dining with the wrong chefs, because if you look for it, delicious, kosher, organic foods are all around.
Click here to read more about our “Why I Eat What I Eat” series.
Photo by sea turtle, licensed under Creative Commons.
Thumbnail photo by Ilovebutter, licensed under Creative Commons.
When my parents got married, they decided to keep a kosher home so my grandparents could eat there when they visited. So it’s always been second nature for me to have some sort of dietary restriction. Growing up, I always found it a little odd when my friends’ parents could just drop by the grocery store and pick up food rather than drive 30 minutes to go to the kosher butcher. Growing up, I found it a little odd that my friends’ parents didn’t have to drive 30 minutes to the kosher butcher, and could easily drop by the local store to pick up groceries. To this day, my mother still comments that the neighbors have it so much easier than she does when it comes to eating meat.
Though we kept a kosher home, as soon as we left the house, we were able to eat whatever we pleased. Apparently, when I was four years old, I went to a neighbor’s house for lunch and came home asking my mom to pick up some ham for a ham and cheese sandwich. She quickly explained to me that we don’t eat ham at home.
Not too long ago, my best friend since middle school came to visit my new home in New York. I mapped out the kitchen for her so she wouldn’t mix up the dairy and meat dishes, and she was shocked to see that I still kept kosher. But it has become second nature to me now. I don’t daven (pray) three times a day the way some observant Jews do, but this is my way of keeping in touch with Judaism on a daily basis.
I met my boyfriend, Jonathan, a year ago. When we began to plan on living together, I asked him if he would keep a kosher home for me. He had started working at Hazon, a Jewish environmental organization, and had already begun to consider giving up shellfish and pork himself. He agreed, but countered it with a question: “Would I buy kosher, organic meat?” To me, it made no difference. I already paid more money for meat than the average Joe, so what was an extra dollar or two? After joining a Tuv Ha’Aretz through Hazon, a Community-Supported Agriculture program enabling the Jewish community to support local, sustainable agriculture, and having learned more about the shocking state of the meat industry in America, I quickly began to think that we should not only start keeping kosher, but also “keep” organic. Jonathan’s interpretation of the kosher laws made him think that kosher food can’t really be made in a factory farm because of the humanitarian issues that are violated there. It does seem exceedingly hard to train undocumented workers to say the proper Hebrew prayers before schecting animals, all while having INS or ICE agents watching them closely.
In our six months of keeping organic-kosher together and living together, we have found some fun ways to keep kosher in our own way. Most notably, we only eat meat on Shabbat and holidays and pick up fresh, locally-grown produce from our CSA, the farmers market, and weekly trips to Whole Foods.
Some people may think that keeping kosher makes life difficult and boring. I’ve heard countless comments on how dried out and bland kosher meats and organic products can taste. I get tired of fielding questions like, “But think how amazing cheese would taste on that sandwich?”These critics are just picking the wrong products off the shelves and dining with the wrong chefs, because if you look for it, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that delicious, kosher, organic foods are all around.
When my parents got married, they decided to keep a kosher home so my grandparents could eat there when they visited. So it’s always been second nature for me to have some sort of dietary restriction. Growing up, I always found it a little odd when my friends’ parents could just drop by the grocery store and pick up food rather than drive 30 minutes to go to the kosher butcher. Growing up, I found it a little odd that my friends’ parents didn’t have to drive 30 minutes to the kosher butcher, and could easily drop by the local store to pick up groceries. To this day, my mother still comments that the neighbors have it so much easier than she does when it comes to eating meat.
Though we kept a kosher home, as soon as we left the house, we were able to eat whatever we pleased. Apparently, when I was four years old, I went to a neighbor’s house for lunch and came home asking my mom to pick up some ham for a ham and cheese sandwich. She quickly explained to me that we don’t eat ham at home.
Not too long ago, my best friend since middle school came to visit my new home in New York. I mapped out the kitchen for her so she wouldn’t mix up the dairy and meat dishes, and she was shocked to see that I still kept kosher. But it has become second nature to me now. I don’t daven (pray) three times a day the way some observant Jews do, but this is my way of keeping in touch with Judaism on a daily basis.
I met my boyfriend, Jonathan, a year ago. When we began to plan on living together, I asked him if he would keep a kosher home for me. He had started working at Hazon, a Jewish environmental organization, and had already begun to consider giving up shellfish and pork himself. He agreed, but countered it with a question: “Would I buy kosher, organic meat?” To me, it made no difference. I already paid more money for meat than the average Joe, so what was an extra dollar or two? After joining a Tuv Ha’Aretz through Hazon, a Community-Supported Agriculture program enabling the Jewish community to support local, sustainable agriculture, and having learned more about the shocking state of the meat industry in America, I quickly began to think that we should not only start keeping kosher, but also “keep” organic. Jonathan’s interpretation of the kosher laws made him think that kosher food can’t really be made in a factory farm because of the humanitarian issues that are violated there. It does seem exceedingly hard to train undocumented workers to say the proper Hebrew prayers before schecting animals, all while having INS or ICE agents watching them closely.
In our six months of keeping organic-kosher together and living together, we have found some fun ways to keep kosher in our own way. Most notably, we only eat meat on Shabbat and holidays and pick up fresh, locally-grown produce from our CSA, the farmers market, and weekly trips to Whole Foods.
Some people may think that keeping kosher makes life difficult and boring. I’ve heard countless comments on how dried out and bland kosher meats and organic products can taste. I get tired of fielding questions like, “But think how amazing cheese would taste on that sandwich?”These critics are just picking the wrong products off the shelves and dining with the wrong chefs, because if you look for it, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that delicious, kosher, organic foods are all around.
By Ruby Marez
I started writing this intro after a particularly horrific experience. I had just broken up with a Hispanic guy after he told me he didn’t want to join me and my Israeli friends on a trip to Coney Island because he didn’t want to “go to the beach and hang out with Shylock and Company.” My jaw had never dropped harder to the floor. Not knowing he secretly harbored resentment and prejudice towards Jews I was stunned, horrified, and in a panic. Without a second of hesitation I told him off and dumped him right there for perpetuating anti-Semitic stereotypes, callously dismissing and putting down my friends, and mostly for disrespecting himself.
You might think this situation would send me running back into the muscular arms of my “chosen men.” While it may seem “easier” to marry someone Jewish to avoid a situation like this again, that is not the reality. No matter who I am with, if he harbors any prejudice towards any group of people, I am immediately disgusted.
When I asked my dad about marrying a non-Jewish Puerto Rican woman, he said that for him it was a non-issue, that she did everything she could to learn about Judaism to pass it on to her kids. My Puerto Rican mother, who became the leader of Shabbat in our household, says she was not intimidated by my father’s differences but rather intrigued. She embraced them and together they made their own special blend of culture and faith. In our house we had fusion food before it was a chi-chi, overpriced concept. Latkes with rice and beans was my lifestyle (and it was delicious). This taught me the simple (and slightly corny) lesson of “don’t hate, celebrate.”
My monologue comes from that lesson along with my struggle to accept who I am and where I came from. I wouldn’t call myself an ethnic Jew because it sounds redundant…I would say I’m a multi-cultural Jew. A tapestry of several shapes and colors; a mixed salad with many different flavors. I am a Jew of European and Sephardic descent and Hispanic, and 1/8th African and from the mid-west, and a woman, and a brunette, and a wise-ass, and an actor, and a writer, and a comedian and at times, a lil’ crazy. I’m a friggin’ United Colors of Benetton ad-campaign.
As Agueda Ramirez, my best friend and fellow actor/writing partner said to me, “You’re a party mix. You’re not just potato chips. You’re a Dorito with a pretzel stick with a peanut, with whatever else is in party mix. Some people don’t like mixing their chips with their party mix. And that’s okay. You just keep being party mix.”
I-am-party mix. Dig in.
Read more posts from issue #16: Diverse Jews
Ruby Marez is currently living in New York City and pursuing her self designed Masters from Antioch University-McGregor in acting and writing. Come see her writing and acting skills in her upcoming sketch show, “Internet Stalkers: We’re Not Creepy!” at The Magnet Theater. Ruby is one member of the duo improv team RuBin, They host and perform a duos-only improv show on the last Monday of every month at The Creek in Long Island City. Ruby also performs musical improv with Los Banditos Del Canto (The Bandits of Song) all over the city. Become our fan on facebook!
By Bennie Cohen
From the beginning of time, back when college football started, there has always been tailgating. People got together in the stadium parking lots and in front of their homes (if they were lucky enough to live close to a stadium). For the most part, college football is played on a Friday night or Saturday, AKA: Shabbos time. Being a fan of college football, tailgating, and Shabbat, I decided to combine three of my favorite things and came up with “Tailgate Shabbat.”
To me, Shabbat is all about community. Mine consists of a bunch of buddies (mostly Jewish) from college, who get together for home games to see our beloved USF Bulls. We grill, talk, and welcome all to our tailgate (very Jewtastic if you ask me). For games that fall on Friday nights, it is important to myself and others to make sure we have a challah, candles, and wine glass complete with wine. Our menu will consist of: chicken, ribs, onion dip, beer, shrimp, anything that Publix has on sale, really. There isn’t any rhyme or reason to what we put on our grill; it doesn’t even have to be kosher, although we always have kosher options available (Hebrew National is not one of them). If you truly want a different Shabbat experience try a Tailgate Shabbat. Why Not??
You don’t need to spend Shabbat in your home, at your Synagogue, or even with your grandma. Shabbat can be spent in front of your favorite stadium with the people you consider family. For me, that’s what Shabbat is all about: community, and welcoming people into your home – people who wouldn’t have a place to go otherwise. Same goes for tailgating. When you open your tent and grill, you open your heart.
For those of you interested, here’s my favorite tailgating burger recipe.
Veal and Lamb Burger
Form into patties place on grill, DO NOT over cook.
Enjoy the goodness that is the veal and lamb burger.
Photo provided by Tedkerwin, licensed under Creative Commons
By Lila Miller
No one makes Christmas dinner like my dad. Turkey, brisket, stuffing, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, brownies…my mouth waters just thinking about it now. Best Kosher Christmas dinner you’ve ever tasted. Just because it’s Christmas dinner doesn’t mean it has to be treif too, right?
It’s hardly breaking news that a Jewish kid grew up celebrating Christmas and Hanukkah. But, when you’re Jewish and your maternal grandfather is an Episcopalian priest, Christmas takes on a particular significance. I have incredibly fond memories of going to church on Christmas, singing Christmas hymns, and being proudly introduced as the priest’s granddaughter (a very important association, I assure you). I can sing multiple verses of Silent Night from memory, and I bet I know the nativity story as well as most Christians.

Despite the years spent visiting Santa in the mall, going to church, and decorating our Christmas tree, there was never any doubt that Judaism was the guiding tradition. When my parents got married, my grandfather (the priest) told them: “Pick one religion and raise them right. Don’t do any of this wishy-washy crap.” So my sisters and I went to Jewish schools, spent most Saturdays at shul, and can chant Torah with the best of them.
But no matter what we did for Hanukkah, Christmas was the main event in the month of December. Over Thanksgiving this year, my 15-year-old sister bluntly quipped, “Christmas is clearly the superior holiday.” I sorta agree. Don’t get me wrong, I love Hanukkah as much as the next latke, but compared to the rest of the Jewish calendar, Hanukkah is nice but relatively unimportant. It’s hardly surprising that it would be over-shadowed by one of the most important holidays of the Christian tradition.
Now, come April, in the unofficial contest between Passover and Easter, my sister will tell you that Passover wins, hands down. And if you thought Kosher Christmas dinner was weird, just wait til you’ve experienced an Easter feast that is Kosher for Passover.
Photo by The Shifted Librarian, licensed under Creative Commons.
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