By Lauren E.

I love crabs. Get your head out of the gutter.  I mean the cute, crawly, Sebastian-esque singing crabs. Growing up in Maryland, I learned to have pride in our Maryland crabs, mastered the art of eating crabs at an early age, and personified them as my make-believe friends at an annual picnic of mostly-Jewish lawyers from a prominent Baltimore law firm.

Now I’m getting married and what better way to welcome my out-of-town guests than with a good ol’- fashioned Maryland crab feast? Just one problem. One of the “benefactors” of the wedding says “NO” to crabs at a Jewish wedding. I won’t bore you with all of my family and future-family treyf stories. The bottom line is, it’s a big fat NO.

I’m a bit disappointed.

Beer + crabs = a great way to begin a life of commitment to my best friend and soul mate. But if this is the biggest disagreement we have throwing together a wedding, then so be it!

Click here to read more about our “Why I Eat What I Eat” series.

Thumbnail photo courtesy of Williams and Sonoma, licensed under Creative Commons

By Rella K.

I have a love-hate relationship with food.

I don’t think most of my friends know there is a “hate” side to my relationship with food. I’m an avid food blogger. I’m always trying new dishes, new foods, new ingredients. I’ll frequently spend an entire Sunday just cooking and baking, and then a host 5-course dinner party.

I grew up in a community that put an incredible amount of stress on being thin. Everyone I knew was on a diet; some were pretty ordinary like limiting fat intake and eating lots of fruits and vegetables. Some were pretty ridiculous like eating nothing other than rice cakes for an entire 8-hour day of school. And then there were the dangerous eating habits—the severe limitations on food intake, and the throwing up in the bathroom after lunch. [And by the way, this all started in middle school].

When I was in the tenth grade one of my classmates spent a summer in a clinic being treated for an eating disorder. I think she was lucky—at least her parents were willing to admit to her problem. For so many other girls I knew, disordered eating patterns were just par for the course. Because really, if you weren’t a size 2 nobody would want to marry you (or at least that’s the message we got).

I’m not going to lie; I thought about following in the footsteps of those around me. I was overweight throughout most of high school, perhaps unconsciously trying to counteract what I was seeing around me with all the restrictions people put on their own appetites. Objectively I knew (and know) that skipping meals or throwing up is bad, and I never did it, but it didn’t stop me from thinking that maybe that had it right. Luckily college was a breath of fresh air, and I think the reduced stress contributed to my dropping a significant number of pounds I had been unable to shed for years before.

Hence, my love-hate relationship with food. Truth be told, the love wins out most of the time (luckily). I receive immense pleasure from writing and photographing for my food blog; I love when my friends call me their “recipe guru;” and I find that after a stressful day at work, whipping up a batch of sumptuous chocolate chip banana nut muffins is relaxing, even cathartic.

Still, I sometimes get an inkling in the back of my mind after I have a meal I know is high in calories and fat. Don’t get me wrong, I eat in a very healthy manner, and I cook for myself a lot so I know exactly what goes into things. But I eat out at restaurants, and I have meals at friend’s houses, and as much as I hate it, I think about every bite I put in my mouth.

Do I wish I didn’t obsess about food so much? Maybe. But I wonder if my obsession ultimately led me to discover how passionate I am about food, cooking, and blogging about it. Sure, I’d prefer I hadn’t grown up in such a toxic environment, but I’m a firm believer that our experiences shape who we are. And I’m happy with who I am today.

…

Image provided by Dan4th, licensed under Creative Commons.

Click here to read more from our “Why I Eat What I Eat” series.

There’re few things that make Alef happier than good food.  That’s why we were pretty bummed we weren’t invited to this NEXT Shabbat meal in LA.  While we’re not sure the hostess’ estimate of “85 tons of pita” is a totally trustworthy description of her Shabbat menu, our mouths were watering at the rest of her Shabbat spread.   Don’t believe us?  Tuck in your bib, this Shabbat meal is drool-worthy:

The Hostess With the Mostest (Hummus)

I like having guests over. Blame it on my mother – after all, she is Martha Jewart. Ever since I was a kid I was raised knowing that there are very specific ways to throw a party. She has very strict rules about how dishes are arranged, what we’re allowed to serve, how food is displayed, etc. When I was little I thought that was ridiculous. “Show me the guest who gives a shit if I put the ketchup bottle on the table without first scooping it into a crystal bowl!” I would scream.

Of course, now I’ve inherited that behavior. So when it came time to throw a special Shabbat dinner for a group of my friends last weekend, you know I went to town…

Continue reading “The Hostest With The Mostest (Hummus)

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Click here to read more from our “Why I Eat What I Eat” series.

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.

I grew up in St. Paul, MN on a typical Midwestern diet. Dinner usually included meat, a vegetable, and a starch. It was nutritious and easy for my parents to prepare after a long day of work. We didn’t keep kosher, and except for the occasional hamburger fresh off the grill, I never enjoyed meat that much. I’ve also always been a huge animal lover, especially cats and dogs.

So it wasn’t too surprising that I eventually went vegan. I went to a concert with Travis in 2008 after meeting online at last.FM, a social networking site for music junkies. He was a friendly, basset-hound owning, punk-rock loving boy and we hit it off right away. I was still eating meat, dairy, and eggs at the time. We both had a passion for food, and he introduced me to amazing vegan cuisine I had never heard of before. There was tofu scramble (pan-fried tofu with mixed veggies, a delicious breakfast substitute for eggs), Luce’s Pizza (topped with mock meat and fake cheese made of cashews) and tempeh bacon (another breakfast fave), among many others. A new world of food opened up for me, and I started thinking about things differently.

First of all, vegan food wasn’t that bad. It was actually amazing! The new tastes and textures were unlike anything I had experienced. Those who think vegans eat grass and bark are dead wrong. Learning of the torture farm animals (including dairy cows and egg-producing chickens) face in factory farms, I also realized how hypocritical it was for me to proclaim my love for animals and then eat meat and dairy. So in July 2008, with Travis’ support, I made the jump to veganism.

For a while, it stuck. I took my friends to posh vegan restaurants in New York City. I learned how to cook a stellar vegan pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving. I was proud of my decision to stand up for animals. I even held it above the heads of my Jewish coworkers who scoffed at my veganism – by not eating meat, dairy or eggs, I was technically keeping strictly kosher. Hell, maybe I was even a better Jew than they were!

Then, after almost a year, it started to wear thin. I became sick of soy cheese, rice and veggie burgers. I missed cheese, omelets and mayonnaise on sandwiches. After some serious reflection, I made the decision to stop being vegan when I went to Israel in June. The fresh foods of Israel were all around me, and I immersed myself in the tastes of Israel’s delicious shakshouka (egg dish), fresh cottage cheese, and rugelach.

Now, I’m a vegetarian. Maybe I’ll eat meat again someday; I’m not sure. But being a vegetarian seems right to me. It also seems like the Jewish choice for me. One of the laws of kashrut dictates that animals should be killed with one stroke, as smoothly and painlessly as possible. Though I don’t eat meat, I am proud to be a part of a tradition that strives for the humane treatment of animals.

Click here to read more about our “Why I Eat What I Eat” series.

Article photo licensed under Creative Commons

Thumbnail photo by Rusvaplauke licensed under Creative Commons

A brief summary of my religious history: I was born a Jew. My father has been Jewish all his life and my mother converted from Lutheranism in her mid-twenties (that I was not aware of this until my mid-teens is beside the fact).

Growing up, I always liked being Jewish because it made me different, especially living in certain school districts where members of the Tribe were few and far between. But when I went to private school in Dallas, I discovered that I was no longer any different than 30% of my eighth grade class. It became obvious to my thirteen-year-old brain that I either needed to find a more tangible link to Judaism or I would have to be Agnostic. This is why dissecting fetal pigs in biology class seemed as good an excuse as any to give up pork products and call myself “kosher-style.” College in Chicago, of course, offered me the opportunity to interact with a whole community of Jews my age in a much more significant way, and as I matured a little, my steadfast eating habits took on a different, more spiritual meaning.

This story, however, does not tie up so neatly. Moving to Florence, Italy in 2007 put me face to face with a cold, hard truth: virtually every Italian restaurant and market seems to specialize in some sort of pork product. They eat it crude and cooked, sliced and ground, rolled into sausages, on pizzas, and in pastas. It might as well be on the flag. Keeping my anti-pork regimen was not terribly difficult, as long as I was satisfied eating vegetarian, which for the most part I was. So to be clear, when I started re-thinking my gastrono mic choices that were already ten years in the making, it was not solely to do with the plethora of offerings on every street corner and in every supermarket.

I don’t believe in crises of faith. I figure that if you believe in something, you should believe in it enough that random acts of life don’t completely blow it all away. That being said, I do believe in spiritual evolution. The more time that I spent away from my Jewish safe haven in Chicago, the more I evolved – not necessarily for better or worse, but just in a different direction.

Eventually I realized that I didn’t really know why I refused to eat pork. The presence or absence of it in my life didn’t seem to have an effect on the rest of my religious beliefs and, given that I didn’t really keep kosher aside from this particular item, it just no longer made sense.

That’s how I decided to try the other white meat. It started with a little bit of pancetta in a spaghetti alla carbonara, a little bit of sausage in a calzone. I don’t know if, after ten years of abstention, I’ll ever bring myself to eat a sandwich sliced freshly off the roasted animal, but with small steps I tried new things and even got a little closer to my host culture. I’ve always thought that there was nothing more revealing about a people than their food.

Photo by Justin Belcher, licensed under Creative Commons.

Part I: Why I Eat The Other White Meat
Part II: 100% Organic, 100% Kosher
Part III: Give Me Crabs On My Wedding Day
Part IV: From Meatpies to Meatless
Part V: Something Fishy in the Making

Photo by Darwin Bell, licensed under Creative Commons.