Some Big Matzoh Balls

Growing up, I both dreaded and couldn't wait for the holiday of Passover. Dreaded because it meant that there would be a lot of waiting to eat food in front of us and for the next eight days, bread and it's family were off limits. I couldn't wait, however, for the Seder meal full of spring time treats: Gefilte fish, chopped liver, spicy horseradish, matzoh ball soup, and brisket. Plus, if you happened to be at Beth and Alan's Seder, you were treated to my aunt Marilyn's homemade chocolate matzoh and trust me, forty years in the desert was worth it.

I'll admit, though, that the past few years hadn't quite reached there peak. In college I never went back home for Passover -- usually it was too expensive, bad timing with finals, and too far. Besides, there wasn't a Seder per se. We used to attend our family friends, the Kramers', Seder when I was a kid. This Seder would go on late into the night, usually with my mom ushering us out the door after the actual meal (aka, "the halfway mark") had been served. We'd find the afikomen and then split, so I never got to have the last two cups of wine or wrap up properly. And I kind of regret it now. These were some of the best Passovers I ever had: with each and every plague animated for the guests, delicious Jew food prepared to perfection, and all of my family and a lot of my friends gathered in one place to celebrate the upcoming spring, a time of change and renewal, to grow as a person as you eased your way into the beautiful summer months ahead. Once the Kramers moved to Los Angeles, that all stopped.

We tried having Seders at our house, with my dad leading the meal and the only Kosher catering service in Salt Lake preparing the food. It was nice the first time -- short, sweet, and to the food -- but it lost a little bit of the meaning. Over the next few years, the quality of the food steadily declined, so it was like we were slave in Egypt all over again (I exaggerate, but still...) And, the opposite was true for the Brooklyn dinners I had: delicious food, lots of family, but with young ones around the Seder was usually cut short in religious content and reduced to a dinner, which was fine by me, but every year I wanted more from the Haggadah and I was denied.

This year, Pescah got her groove back.

Sam Carr invited me and Sara over to his parents house for Seder, Sara's first, the Carr's thirtieth, and my first one in a long time that felt just right. Sam's parents were so hospitable and generous to give us a place, among 35 guests, at their Seder table. The food was delicious, the prayers and liberal-feminist interpretations a delight (takes me back to so many arguments I witnessed as a kid about the "right of women" at the Seder table), and for my first time in San Diego, I really felt all together. Passover always does that. I had been having a rough day before hand, moping around the apartment, doing jack shit with my time, and feeling crappy. I talked on the phone with Gina, swapping woes between each other about what we were going to do with our life. I was particularly grumpy because I had not heard back from Sony, got my call denied somewhere else...but just as we were about to leave for the Passover festivities, I got a call from a potential employer asking me for an interview on Friday. This may be the one that changes everything, this may amount to nothing, but I won't be swayed in the fact that Passover is the time of year to grow and change and get one step closer to the person you truly want to be.

Now, if I could just have a cookie...