Pass (over) the Baton

 

Kimchi Matzoh ball soup

I used to love to host and cook for the holidays.   I loved teaching my kids all the traditions that had been passed down for generations, from a culinary perspective.   It was not uncommon to have Kimchi on the table at Thanksgiving, Matzoh at Easter Dinner, or for someone to pull out some good Kosher pickles during a Korean feast.   To me, it was just another way of saying, 

"This is who you are,"

without actually saying it.

They never knew anything different.

About a year and a half ago, my world got turned completely upside down when I developed the long Covid ailment called parosmia (disordered smell and taste).   The smell of food disgusted me.   I could no longer cook, or host any holiday meals.   It was such a big part of my identity that it was a truly devastating blow.

One of my daughters was always telling her friends at college what a good cook I was and was known for saying, "this (fill in the blank) is okay, but it's not as good as my mom's."   I took a lot of pride in that.

In less than the time it takes to take a Covid test, that identity was gone.

For the first few months of having parosmia I truly was struggling to just finding things to eat and wasn't thinking about the future too much but then as time went on, and I continued to not be completely healed, I began to wonder if I would ever be able to smell and taste normally again.   Would I ever be able to cook a holiday meal again?  Would I hold my reign as making the best (fill in the blank)?  If so, for how much longer?

Holiday weekends became triggering for me.  There are so many holiday foods that I can't even eat, forget about cooking.    So, what happens to all our traditions?    It is devastating to me as I imagine them all falling by the wayside.

Passover began earlier this week.   There is so much I can't eat at Passover that I decided that we (my husband and I) just wouldn't celebrate.    On Wednesday, my oldest daughter sent me a text with a picture of her eating Matzoh pizza.   And, shortly after, my younger daughter called me to tell me that she was hosting a Passover seder and wanted some advice on what and how to cook the items that are part of the meal.

"This is who you are."

My younger daughter called me this morning to tell me how the seder went.   "Nana would have been proud of my Charoset," she said.   She continued, "I was remembering Pop-pop presiding over the seder.   He loved that."   Then she educated me about a new tradition she learned, 'We put an orange on the seder plate."   "An orange?" I asked.   "Yes," she explained, "Some old (stodgy) Rabbi once said that there would be female Rabbis when there were oranges on the seder plate." (For those of you who aren't Jewish, there are never oranges on the seder plate).   So, as a not so gentle middle finger to the old male Rabbi, people put oranges on the seder plate now. (It also represents all marginalized communities)

"This is who you are."

At first I have mixed feelings about adding the orange to the seder plate but who am I to judge?  I am the person who allowed kimchi on the table at the seder and sometimes dyed Easter eggs doubled as the egg on the seder plate.   

I happen to know a female Rabbi.   Actually, I know two.

Bring on the oranges.

"This is who you are"

When you celebrate Passover you read from a book called the "Haggadah".  This book tells the story of Passover, how thousands of years ago the Jews escaped from Egypt where they were slaves.   During the reading of the story the youngest person at the table asks four questions about why we do things differently during this holiday.   Why do we eat different things?  Why do we eat them in a different way? Why do we sit differently? 

The long story short, because we need to remember.  We need to remember where we came from and the hardships our ancestors faced.

"This is who you are"

Sometimes I wonder/worry if future members of my family will know that I used to love to cook.  I wonder if they'll know that I made the best (fill in the blank) I wonder if they will know the traditions/foods of our family's history.   This past week my daughters curbed a lot of my fears.   Whether it's something as novel (to me) as Matzo Pizza or a perfect Charoset, it is clear that the pass (over) torch has been passed.    It's okay for new things to be added to all our tables.  Bring on the oranges, the kimchi and the Easter eggs on seder plates.   It's all good.

"This is who you are"

No one has to say a thing.

Just eat.