Faklempt and soon to feel gefilted

Every day there is a volunteer that ensures to remind me that I am a stranger in a strange land. At first it was endearing and I know that they mean it with the sweetest of intentions but day after day having to explain which state you are from (Haha New Jersey, Nueva Jerse Hahah) or that no Americans don't carry weapons or only eat hamburgers gets a bit tiring.

I am not only an American but I am a Jew in Seville. I admit to eating shrimp however, I try to avoid the forever present ham. Here, apparently it is considered a vegetable, the equivalent of parsley for Americans. I will tell you if you are a Jew in Spain, you will never win the battle against the pig. This snorting beast always wins. I know there is no logic in eating shrimp but not pork but I think it is perhaps out of pure spite over the inquisition that I try to prevail over this creature and those that nosh it.

The following days to come are the hardest for me but I have to admit have proved over the years to make for the best culinary escapades and best learning experiences. In one week from today it will be Passover. I will explain to my Spanish friends that it is the last supper of Jesus and they will look at me bewildered. Through out the week I will be "slaving" away in my kitchen making everything from scratch. For me it is in this culinary process where the true meaning of passover lies.

Many of my relatives back home think I am insane for trying all this from scratch. They are used to buying matzah and matzah meal that comes in a box but I make my own matzah and matzah meal, gefilted fish, matzah ball soup, haroset, etc... trying to blend sephardic recipes into the meal. This is where the true meaning of the holiday in my opinion begins. It is where I begin to feel and understand the past of my ancestors, not only those in from Egypt but those that lived in Poland, Russia and Spain.

Matzah is a flat unlevened bread that must be made with in the limits of 18 minutes. I don't know what rabbi came up with this freak time-frame but in order for it to be Kosher (in this case fit for eating at passover) you must race to kneed it, roll it, prick it and throw it in the oven. This makes for all the fun and where you truly understand how the Jews must have felt racing against the clock to make their breads and get the heck out of Egypt. I usually burn myself a half dozen times and end up cursing a whole lot, as I am sure Miriam did. I have learned that it takes a mega hot oven and a preheated baking stone (or even better, an upside down terracotta pot) to get the task right.

As the Jews of the (far and near) past had to make due with what they had when forced to move, I too have had to make due. After a long search for carp and pike I have come to the conclusion that mixed trouts are just as good for the gefilted fish, if not better. I especially love the orange color that some of the them can give to the dish (but could forego poking out their eyes). Homemade, hand ground matzah meal also gives the dish a much better taste. I have to admit that I think my gefilted fish rocks.

Haroset for me is now a persian, sephardic recipe that I love that mixes pistachios, dates, hazelnuts, fresh ginger, cinnamon, wine, walnuts, almonds, apple and pear.

This year's main dish: Morrocan roast chicken.

My family often wants me to come home for this holiday. It is true that it is when I feel the most lonely and the most different. However, I have to admit New Jersey and New York Jews have it easy: stocked selves with boxed matzah and jarred gefilted fish. There is something to be said about feeling Jewish together but being Jewish takes on a whole new meaning when you are the minority (as we often have been and usually are) the odds are against you and you must explain time and again who you are, what you stand for, yes, hava na gila is Jewish, that no you are not always in agreement with Isreali politics and that there in my tupperware is called gefileted fish. Wanna bite?

This blog is dedicated to my loving father.