Family Growth Chart

 Many years ago, we bought a metal frame and white cotton fabric walls to build our sukkah. The frame stayed up all year, I sewed together several bed sheets to throw on top to make a shade, and we'd often have our Shabbat meals outside on the patio when the weather cooperated.

After a few holidays of getting tired of staring at the plain white walls, I decided I wanted to design something to paint on the walls. First I thought something rather industrious - traditionally on Sukkot (Feast of the Tabernacles), there is the concept of seven holy guests - Ushpizin - who visit the sukkah, one for each day of the holiday. Then I thought maybe to start a bit more simply, the seven species of fruit associated with the Land of Israel, and the four species associated with the holiday of Sukkot.

And then I hit on a family-inclusive, long-term project. Using just one handprint from each family member, we would build a mosaic over the years.

The first year was 2010.

We started with a sun. Six members of the family, and a false start.

In 2011, we added part of the sky. And a son-in-law.

2012 saw grass grow, and a grandson.

2013 we had flowers bloom.

In 2014, the multicolored butterflies arrived.

And in 2015, we did the other part of the sky, and welcomed a second grandson to the family and to the sukkah family project.

In 2016 we moved to a location where we don't have a place to build our own sukkah, so for now, the family project is on hold. Happily, as soon as it's up and going again (please God, for Sukkot in 2021), we will be adding several new family members.

So, any interesting traditions you have to chronicle the growth of your own families?

Holidays, Family, and Depression

I moved 6,000 miles away from my family; parents, siblings, grandparents, almost all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins. And when I married Zach, I added a host of in-laws to that list.

Now, I get that for many, moving 6,000 miles away from family is a blessing. But I come from a fairly tight-knit clan, and we all pretty much get along. Holidays are a BIG thing for us. Getting together, sharing cooking duty, spending time together... it's what we do.

I've been living in Israel for almost 21 years and the holidays always depress the heck out of me. Or rather, it brings my depression to a whole new level.

I remember one year, going through fertility treatments, so I'm hopped up on hormones, and I'm getting ready for Pesach (Passover). I open the fridge and see the huge container of applesauce I had just made... and I totally lost it because I wanted my grandmother's applesauce (and her horseradish, sponge cake, gefilte fish, and stewed pears).

So we invite people - other ex-pats - to our Pesach seder, which is the main meal. I'll usually make a turkey, and a slew of other dishes. I fondly remember introducing the concept to an amazing Australian family who was joining us. Last year was by far one of the more interesting ones.

We had 9 guests, a couple who were vegetarian/vegan, and most of whom were actually not even Jewish. It was really fun for us to introduce and teach our customs to people who had never experienced a real Pesach seder. I made turkey, and I made zucchini stuffed with quinoa, mushrooms, and onions. There was a host of side dishes. And yes, I introduced them all to gefilte fish, which I admit, is an acquired taste.

This year, we're going to our daughter and her family for the Pesach seder for the very first time. And for the first time in a really long time, my usual holiday blues aren't that bad. I'm actually feeling pretty good and looking forward to going and spending time with my daughter, her husband, her delicious two boys, my other daughter, my husband, and our two sons.

Speaking of which, I need to get showered, and pack everything up so we can hit the road.

What are your family holiday meals like?

Pesach is coming - Charoset edition

There are many parts to a Pesach seder, and one of them is the eating of the charoset. Growing up, I had the typical Ashkenazi version of shredded apples, ground walnuts, sweet red wine, and cinnamon, all mixed together. And for many years after, when my husband and I would make our own seder, that's what I would make.

A few years ago, I decided to change things up and offer a variety of different types from around the world. I made the traditional Ashkenazi version, and a more Middle Eastern version with dates. The blogger calls them charoset date truffles. And they were well received. I also made a date version with whole oranges that only Zach liked. I think part of the problem is there's simply too much pith in the local oranges, and it makes it really bitter. If I tried the recipe again, I'd use just the zest and the pulp.

Now, to be honest, I'm not a fan of dates. So before last Pesach, I went in search of a version of charoset that was different, and had neither dates nor apples. And I came across this apricot energy bites recipe. I am VERY embarrassed to say that I didn't bother to read anything about the blogger, saw her name is Ruchi, and immediately assumed she was a Jewish woman, and would understand the Jew-speak in the comment I left her, thanking her for this recipe. Um... she's NOT Jewish, she's from India.

But anyway, I left out the flax seeds because they're kitniyot and we're Ashkenazi, and even though we live in Israel, there are some things I'm just not ready to go full Sepharadi on... and even without the flax seeds, these things were AMAZING. I only made one batch, since it was the first time, and they flew off the plates. Everyone loved them, everyone raved about them. So this recipe will definitely become part of our usual Pesach seder table.

What holiday traditions are your favorites, and what traditions have you changed successfully over the years?

Musical chairs at the red light

Here in Israel (can't speak for how it is elsewhere), in pretty much any given city, at almost any given time, one might be stopped at a red light when suddenly a van pulls up alongside. It's covered in colorful stickers, has large speakers blasting upbeat music strapped or bolted to the roof, and suddenly, the side door will slide open, a couple guys with peyot (the longer sidelocks of hair many Orthodox Jewish men have)swinging past their shoulders and large kippot (yarulka) covering their heads will jump out and run around the van and dance to the music.

My husband likes to joke that when the light turns green and the guys are scrambling back into the car, it's a tossup as to whether or not the same guy who drove the van up to the intersection is the same guy driving away.

It's fun, it's weird, it's pretty uplifting at times.

The guys are Breslov Hassidim, often called Na-Nach-Nachmans - or as I like to call them sha-na-nachmans or hey-nonny-nachmans - turning their Rebbe's name, Nachman, into some form of Kabbalistic formula.

So what weirdness have you seen while waiting at a local red light?

Holiday disillusionment

At the end of the month will be the Jewish holiday of Purim. To learn what the holiday is about, feel free to read about it here.

For the past 6 years or so, our tradition with regard to giving mishloach manot was to give mostly to people we don't know, and especially to people who might not get any from others (usually because they're secular and don't necessarily observe this part of the holiday). When we lived in Ariel, I had the feeling that when we gave to people, it was truly appreciated. Just the reaction we got when the door opened to our knock, the residents seeing us in our costumes, their momentary confusion turning to happiness when presented with the package of food; it really seemed genuine.

Last year was our first Purim in Be'er Sheva, and our first year living in an apartment building. I knew the demographics of the building was mostly secular, with a decent number of religious Jews, and even a few Muslim families.

Now, usually the amount of mishloach manot we give out is simply dependent on "we make as many packages as we can until we run out of something, and then we stop". One year it might mean "I've made 3 dozen small cakes/challot" or "I bought a sleeve of 25 medium containers, now there's no more vegetable soup, so we stop".

Last year's mishloach manot were oversized cups of popcorn, an assortment of cookies I baked, and a drink pouch. I had baked three different types of cookies, giving me about nine dozen cookies of each type, and I had bought two boxes of drinks, giving me 36 drinks. So it was either going to be "until I ran out of popcorn, or 36 packages were made".

Our first stops of course were the people on our own floor. There are six apartments on each floor. Once those were delivered, we packed up the shopping cart, got into the elevator, and went floor by floor, ringing doorbells and knocking on doors. Many people weren't home. And of those who were home... most looked at us like we were crazy. At some point, I really started getting tired of the "WTF?" looks I was getting when the door would open. And the truth is, some of the religious tenants kind of gave us looks of "why are you giving to us?"

So I'm really discouraged about this coming Purim. To help with it, I've come up with a new plan. I'm making eight mishloach manot. That's it. It will be containers of three different types of salads, and a medium-sized home made garlic pull apart bread. And we'll actually make a list of who we want to give it to, who will make me feel like my effort is appreciated.

I mean, I try really hard to teach my kids that mishloach manot is about the giving, and not the receiving, that it's important to think about people who might otherwise be forgotten, and that it's not about seeking effusive praise and gratitude. But quite frankly, it shouldn't also leave one feeling completely unappreciated.