Tag: food

Fess up– Hanukkah is the Jewish Christmas!

Fess up– Hanukkah is the Jewish Christmas!

Before I continue, I will let those of you gasping for air catch your breath.

Yes, indeed, the rabbi went there! But it is hard to refute the statement. And you know what else? It is okay.

Here in the United States, we have thought longingly of the Christmas portrayed ironically by Irving Berlin- replete with a white (from the snow, that is) Christmas with cards, sleigh bells, and glistening trees. The Coca-Cola Santa Claus brings presents to everyone traveling on a flying sleigh powered by eight reindeer (nine including Rudolph), Christmas Trees, gifts, love, and good cheer. Of course, once the marketers got hold of this, they commercialized the holiday even further. Everyone who ever sang anything now records an album of Christmas songs or has a television Christmas special.

Who wouldn’t want to be a part of this party?

So we have amped up Hanukkah, a minor yet complicated holiday, not even part of the Jewish Bible. Our Acceptance in this country is the great miracle of our time. And if we could place the menorah in the window without fear of retribution, what else might we enjoy? The secularized Christmas is at the center of the American holiday season, bounded by Thanksgiving and New Year’s.

So we are in full bloom- we have Hanukkah bushes, lights of blue and white to decorate the house, and latkes and sufganiyot are now things in the American public space! Giant menorahs are lit alongside the Christmas trees, eclipsing the simple manger scenes of the holiday’s religious roots. It is a mash-up of the best our traditions have to offer, and we all join together in the kind of unity we could only pray might somehow extend to all the other days of the year (either 364 if you are Christian or 357 if you are Jewish).

They say competition is a good thing.  And arguably, Hanukkah is a bigger, better celebration because of Christmas.

Let us wish everyone Happy Holidays and a year of bounty and joy. Let us thank God for bringing us to a time when our lights can burn brightly, and we can be with our brothers and sisters; whatever their faith traditions, we are together here in the United States.

A Taste of Heaven

 It is said that you have to die to go to heaven, but I must disagree.  I enjoyed a little bit of heaven right here on the Lower East Side.

We spent the weekend in New York City.  Naomi and I headed north to spend some time with one of her daughters and to get our NY Fix.  We had a great time taking in a wonderful play, All the Way, found a couple of restaurants heretofore untested by the three of us as well as enjoying one of our romantic favorites.  Eating is a nexus of Jewish and New York experiences. And speaking of eating, our ride out of the city was done in style by stopping on Houston Street.

We strategically parked the car at the corner of Eldridge and Houston and put the blinkers on.  Then we headed or Yonah Schimmels.  Think Knish, those plump pockets of potato perfection.  Fortuitously we met a couple of New York’s Finest who were to be our guardian angels as we waited for the knishim (?) to come up fresh from the oven.  Box tied with string in hand, we moved forward.

 Then we traipsed through snow to the next destination, a bit further east on Houston was Russ and Daughters. The best cream cheese in the world as best as I can tell and so too the best Salmon, kippered salmon, lox, gravlax, whitefish, herring, etc., etc. etc. The line was long, so we schmoozed.  The people behind the counter seemed to feed off of our enthusiasm to be at this mecca of appetizing. The bags were getting heavier.

And the third in our trifecta was Katz’s.  How can we be so close and not stop in for some amazing stuff there? Tickets in had we moved toward the meat cutters.  Naomi and I shared a frank and a sausage, both of course dripping in mustard and sauerkraut (I will have to return another day for some pastrami). Katz’s tag line says, “Send a Salami to your boy in the army.”  But the hanging salami was irresistibly calling my name.  I do not know what Rob Reiner’s mom had, but I was totally taken by the dried salami, a remnant of which now sits in my fridge at home.  Our reinforced shopping bags were sagging.

Interestingly, we hit all three food groups as we moved across Houston:  milchik, fleishik and pareve.  According to my belt, my waistline seems to be about an inch larger than when I stared out a few days ago, and I seem unquenchably thirsty.  But wow, what a road trip!