My boyfriend was a Persian Muslim. We spent a decade together starting in the mid-eighties. Neither of us came from a religiously observant household so our typical couple problems had less to do with religion and more to do with conflicts you would expect when an open-minded, American, risk-taking former hippie (me) hung with a hard-headed (yet remarkably open-minded) Persian muslim educated in Italy (him). The sharing of food was a large part of our learning about each other.
I helped him negotiate his first experience of the American menu with its infinite choices. You know the kind – Soup or Salad? What kind of dressing? Which of four entrée choices? Which dessert? The American way of eating was complicated to him. Sometimes the consternation I saw on his face confronting what should be such a simple task just slayed me.
Passover
Passover
The Perfect Passover Dessert…Strawberry Mousse
I know this looks like ice cream. But IT’S NOT. It’s Strawberry Mousse. And it has all the creamy mouthfeel that ice cream exudes. Best of all it’s quick and easy to put together. What could be better than that?
Oy Vey, I am not Jewish, however, the Wild Boar is. So when there is a Jewish Holiday (however it seems as though lots of non-Jews, goyim, are celebrating Passover these days), I like to take on my “perfect goy wife” role and put something together, a traditional treat during the holiday period. I know, I know, I’m good.
The Wild Boar does not follow Jewish dietary laws (he eats everything) but like I said, it’s fun to make traditional things. If there is a holiday, I’ll join in and do what I need to do for a celebration. I love parties.
This mousse is considered perfect for Passover because it is non-dairy with no leavening, an important consideration for Jews following traditional dietary laws with a meal where meat is usually present.
But the truth is, I make this on a whim because it is so darn yummy and simple to throw together. It’s light, fluffy and refreshing. You’ll be saying Mazel Tov before you know it. I know you will.
Seder in Studio 8H
It probably never would have happened had it not been for the fact that we were trapped in Studio 8H for camera blocking for hours on end which was business as usual. A group of us were sitting around the Green Room, which was next to Lorne’s office on the 9th floor overlooking the studio stage.
This was where we took our meals between the dress rehearsal and the live show. It was also where we got notes and the chopping block for sketches. But you’d never know that kind of carnage took place at any other time in this unassuming spot. It was furnished with the kind of couches and chairs that said ‘we don’t give a crap about this late night summer replacement show, let’s give them the stuff we have in storage’. The color palate was ‘tan 70s vomit’.
In the room were Gilda Radner, Paul Schaffer, Cathy Vasapoli (Paul’s girlfriend, now, his wife) Marilyn Miller, Alan Zweibel, Al Franken, and me. We were all in varying stages of exhaustion (the writers, obviously, even more so) and were draped over the furniture like the kids in the “Going Steady” number from Bye Bye Birdie.
“Hey, isn’t it pasacccchhhhhhhhhh?” Zweibel asked, shredding his throat and getting the laugh his sacrifice deserved.
One for the Table's Brisket Extravaganza
Kbell's Perfect Brisket
by Joy Horowitz
My friend KBell makes socks for a living. But it’s what comes out of her kitchen that’ll really knock your socks off – the world’s most perfect brisket.
Alan's Mother's Brisket of Beef
Passover: What's a Shiksa to Do?
My husband is Jewish, my stepchildren are Jewish, even my son is Jewish. And yet, I, myself, am merely Jew-ish, which is to say that I go to temple with my family, participate in our Jewish life, but have yet to officially convert. Why? I don’t know exactly. I believe that it’s either in your heart or it isn’t, and it is in mine, and no amount of mikvehs will make it more so.
My first seder was easily a decade ago. I slaved (no pun intended), I sweated, I researched. I even figured out how to get a lamb shank bone for my seder plate. And for dinner, I made a fine lamb roast. We invited my husband’s best friend since high school, and his family. Turns out, they don’t eat lamb. That was awkward. But it had nothing to do with Passover. (I had no idea that there were people who felt funny about lamb. Now I ask, every single time, and there’s only been one other occasion where someone categorically turned their back on it.)
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