Once upon a time, say, about 1000 b.c.e., my ancestors lived in an agricultural world. They sowed seeds around this time of year, brought first fruits in late spring, and celebrated the harvest in the fall. More recently, my grandfathers were businessmen; my maternal grandfather, whom I never knew, worked in the stock market in New York City; my paternal grandfather traveled to New Jersey from Brooklyn, bought eggs, and re-sold them in Brooklyn. My mother, the first generation to live in suburbia, grew tomatoes and cucumbers in our back yard; she bought them as little seedlings. The only seeds my father sowed was grass seed for the lawn.
When my boys were no longer toddlers, I decided to try the hobby of starting seeds in the basement. My first attempt was probably using dirt; I grew weeds instead of whatever it was I had planted. I then read every book I could on seed starting. I bought some seed starting formula, learned about the placement of the seed in the formula: the bigger seed needs to be buried deeper. I set up some special lights on top of my seed; they were not terribly expensive, I bought them at Home Depot. I put the lights on timers; it seems that seed need darkness at night.
And so I waited. And then…yes! Little seedlings sprouted up. I had the best luck with marigolds and tomatoes. I remember impatiens had tiny seeds that needed to be set on the top of the soil, because they required light to germinate. By the end of the summer, I had one little impatiens plant from seed. A lot of effort for one tiny plant.
What I also discovered was seed starting, in New Jersey anyway, coincides with “get your house ready for Passover” season. And then we went up to the Boston area for Passover that year; I was all worried about my little seedlings! I had left them by themselves in the basement. No babysitter. My father’s cousin lives in the Boston area, and he grows orchids. He knew all about seed starting. I should have left the seeds with a bit of water under them. And so I learned about watering seedlings from underneath. Also, seedlings, unlike babies, can last for a few days without “mama”.
The next year my seedlings had competition. Actually, I think they had so much competition they were never born that year. My daughter was born in July; so with a baby in the house and Passover to prepare, the seedlings didn’t happen. I don’t recall if I did much at all with my garden that year. If it’s a choice between gardening, house chores, holiday preps and baby demands, baby wins.
I no longer start seed in my basement. I have learned which seeds starts nicely outside. The lights that I bought at Home Depot have long been smashed by the bouncing of some boy or another in my basement. And the shattered glass long been carefully picked up. I now buy Rutgers tomato seedlings, a local brand of tomatoes that are not too big and not too small. I had lots of tomatoes last year, grown in my compost piles.
If you want to learn how to grow seeds in your basement, I’m probably not the best teacher. But you may have learned what NOT to do. Here’s a book I own, highly recommended:
Which one would you prefer to eat? Please leave any remarks (no disparaging ones, however) in the comments.
Yesterday, Babka Nosher related her hamantaschen making tales. Stapling and velcro are discussed as options for making these little triangular critters. But I steered myself for my own baking exploits.
I’m a lazy baker. I don’t like following recipes. So I took my apple pie crust recipe and added a bit of baking powder. Then I made a little circle for each pastry, threw in some cinnamon and sugar covered chopped apples and folded the sides so it looked like a hamantaschen. Baked at 350° a little longer than my other hamantaschen, for about 20 minutes.
Then last night we had a family affair in the kitchen as my husband, middle son and daughter prepared the more classic hamantaschen, with the rolling and the circle cutting and the careful folding of each flap. I supervised. Thanks, family! (my eldest played computer games–he’s a teenager, whadya want).
Have a Happy Purim! If you don’t celebrate this holiday, find one of your neighbors that do and mooch some hamantaschen. Good stuff.
Addendum:
Classic Hamantashen Dough (NO TRANS FATS!)
8 oz. Earth Balance Natural Buttery Spread
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp. vanilla extract
3-4 cups flour
Combine first three ingredients, then add remaining ingredients. Mix until doughy consistency (add fourth cup flour if necessary). Roll dough out flat to 1/4 inch thickness. Use a floured drinking glass to cut out 3-inch circles. Put one teaspoon of filling in center of each dough circle and fold up corners to make a triangle. Bake at 350° until lightly browned (about 8-10 minutes).
Last week I was discussing the term Sephardi, and Little Frumhouse on the Prairie, who just posted a delicious carnival of delightful bites, suggested I blog about how we Ashkenazim came to a Sephardi shul (or should I say beit knesset…shul is yiddish).
There are a lot of Ashkenazim at Congregation Etz Ahaim. A while back, I wrote a post about Voices of Etz Ahaim, a marvelous oral history book put together by two Ashkenazi members. Many of the Ashkenazim are women married to Sephardi men, but sometimes it’s the reverse. I decided to make a list of “key ingredients” of why Ashkenazim are attracted to Etz Ahaim. Then I add my own personal note at the end.
1) food: Sephardim (the women–the men can’t locate the kitchen…so maybe I should say Sephardot?) know how to cook. Elaborate kiddushes might include dishes such as meat patties on pastry, borekas with a variety of fillings, bulghur & chickpea salad with grated carrots and parsley, and fancy cookies. A simpler kiddush has chickpeas and olives. And there’s usually a jar of herring for the Ashkenazim who need their fix.
2) International flavor: Countries represented include Turkey, Greece, Italy, Israel, Iran, Iraq, France, Morocco, Brazil, Russia. French is spoken in pockets; it’s fun to listen in on the conversations.
Ladino is part of the service. Bendicho su nombre is sung when the Torah is taken out. Ain Kelokeinu is also half Hebrew, half Ladino: non come estro Dio (there is none like our God).
3) Community: It is the only synagogue in Highland Park that isn’t over-crowded and bursting at the seams. We remember “losing” our boys as toddlers in the the large kiddushes of the our previous synagogue. And at Etz Ahaim friendliness comes with the territory.
4) Rabbi Bassous: Our rabbi is both learned and kind, a natural teacher. One can learn from him no matter what your level of Jewish education.
Did I mention the food?
On a more personal note, I like the way the misheberachs (prayer for the sick) are done at Etz Ahaim. When my mother z”l (may her memory be a blessing) was very sick with cancer, the misheberach was very important to me. I didn’t care to say it “quietly to oneself” as was done in the Ashkenazi shul we attended. At Etz Ahaim the women can stand at the mechitza (the separation between men and women) with their requests, and the Rabbi says each name loudly and clearly. I started attending Etz Ahaim on my own, in part so I could hear my mother’s name said out loud. My oldest son soon joined me, as his best friend was at Etz Ahaim. His younger brother soon followed (at that age they went to the groups).
We eventually pulled in my husband (my daughter was born later). Now my husband is on the Executive Board, he’s the treasurer, he keeps track of the aliyot donations, he finds someone to do the haftorah each week, he finds lainers (men who recite Torah) and speech givers when the Rabbi goes away in the summer; they caught him!
Do you like nature? Do you like photographs? Do you like hearing about good things being done in a small town?
I’ve had the pleasure of working with Arnold Clayton Henderson, a wonderful writer and naturalist, since 2001(?) on the Environmental Commission website. Way back in 2002, about the time my daughter was born, the Environmental Commission submitted the website for an award, and we won! (yes, that little baby is now almost six years old).
This winter I switched the Environmental news site to WordPress. On Friday Arnold took the plunge into what he calls the “brave new world” of Word Press, and there are three new articles up: a plan of the Scentennial Garden, a photo of a seal by Bill Bonner (another talented local–an award-winning photographer), and news of the latest Backyard Bird Count. He also sent me that great photo of a deer running through a forest that is now in the header.
The Highland Park First Aid Squad, a group of dedicated volunteers who give of their own time, often answering calls at all hours of the night, needs your help. The First Aid Squad has been accepted as a possible recipient of up to $15,000 to be used towards a new ambulance by a project called “My Hometown Helper” sponsored by Hamburger Helper.
It’s pea-planting time in New Jersey. I ordered my peas and inoculant; they are sitting and awaiting my having the time and energy to plant them. I already dug a trench where I want them planted.
Digging the “trench” (it’s only about 3 inches wide) was easy because the “dirt” in that spot is a mound of compost. When I started composting, I used to put all my compost scraps in one corner of my yard. But come planting time, I then need to transfer a heap of the stuff to my garden spot. Also, I found the chicken wire I originally used more of a nuisance in terms of turning the compost than a help. Instead, I now pile the scraps one season earlier in the spot where I will later plant. The compost may not be fully de-composed, but that’s OK.
What do I put in my compost? Vegetable and fruit scraps, coffee grinds, egg shells. Animal products are a no-no, as they attract rodents and other unwanted creatures. Every time I put down a pile of these kitchen scraps, I cover it with some soil. That will help keep away any flies. Also, the scraps needs soil to decompose. I also add layers of garden “waste” such as dried weeds with no flowers, dried grass, thin sticks. Every now and then I turn the pile (except in winter; impossible to do when the ground is frozen!).
Key elements in compost are: air (turn it sometimes), moisture (add a bit of water if it hasn’t rained much), soil and/or manure, carbon and nitrogen (which you get from the kitchen and garden wastes).
You can read more about composting online (try http://www.howtocompost.org/, for example) or from a book (I own The Rodale Book of Composting). But my suggestion is: try it! Ask questions as you go along. You don’t need to be a chemist to make compost.
This post is dedicated to all those people who are wondering what in the world do those terms mean! Let’s start with two: Hasid vs. Litvak. When you hear Litvak, think Lithuania. Think the Vilna Gaon. Lots of Talmud study. Emphasis on who’s the smartest. My family is basically Litvak (except for those who married into a hasidic branch or married yekkes or one who married a Yemenite or one who married an Ethiopian). Another term used is misnagdim, meaning those who oppose Hassidim(the ‘im” makes Hasid plural in Hebrew).
In the late 18th Century the Ba’al Shem Tov started Hassidism in what is now the Ukraine. It was in response to the emphasis on Talmud study of the Litvaks. Instead, the emphasis is on prayer, joy, spirituality. Hassidim follow a rebbe. So today you have the Belzer Rebbe, the Gerrer Rebbe, the Satmar Rebbe (disputed leadership). Chabad or Lubavitch is also Hassidic.
There is a tiny branch of the Bostoner Rebbe here in Highland Park. The Bostoner is the only Hasidic branch named after an American city. All the other Hasidic branches are named after towns in Eastern Europe.
Yekkes are German Jews. Yekkes are known for being very punctual. This is as opposed to general “Jewish time” (an event that starts later than it is called for). The term “Yekke” comes from jacket, and it refers to the shorter, more Westernized jackets worn by German Jews, as opposed to the longer coats of Eastern European Jews.
Sephardi refers to Jews who were kicked out of Spain in 1492. However, it has come to refer also to Jews from Iraq, Iran, India or Yemen who never had ancestors who lived in Spain. That’s why in Israel they are called ‘Edot HaMizrach’ or congregations of the East. Sephardim are from countries like Morroco, Italy, Turkey, Greece (especially Salonika), Libya, Tunisia. Many have moved from those countries to France. We belong to a Sephardi congregation in Highland Park, Congregation Etz Ahaim. Why two thorough-bred Ashkenazim and children joined a Sephardi synagogue is a subject for another post. But we are not the only Ashkenazim there! (Ashkenaz = Germany and has come to mean any Jew from Europe).
I haven’t even begun to cover the history of religious Zionism here or how various Hasidic or Sephardic groups have responded to the modern State of Israel.
Ain’t that Absoid, der little Wings is on der Boid!!
Saw these two beautiful crocuses in my front yard and couldn’t resist adding the above poem. Seems to be written by unknown. I am working on a compost recipe post (other possible post topics: writer Aharon Appelfeld, repressed anger in literature, a review cookbook/nutrition book called Nourishing Traditions)…coming soon.
Last week Little Frumhouse on the Prairie (isn’t that a great name?) posted that she is hosting the next Kosher Cooking Carnival. So my mind starts churning…maybe a post on food photography?
I photographed one of the dishes I made for dinner one night. Because it was pretty. And it looks nice against the blue background. Food often looks good against blue, because there really isn’t any true blue in food. Even blueberries are really purple.
Later, I go visit my neighbor, arguably one of the best cooks in Highland Park. Last erev Yom Kippur she gave some of her Gondi, a Persian specialty of ground chicken, chickpea flour and spices rolled into balls and cooked in a sauce. Wish I had a photo of that! Are you making anything special for Purim, I ask. She said always makes something different for the Purim seudah (feast). I could tell her mind wasn’t yet on Purim.
On Friday night my husband came home from shul and said our rabbi spoke about the times one can have the Purim seudah (feast) this year. Purim falls on a Friday, not my favorite timing. Batya doesn’t have this problem. We can have the seudah at a choice of three times: in the morning, after noon, or at the end of the day, right before Shabbat starts. One then says Friday night kiddush in the middle and continues one’s meal. The latter sounds like an interesting idea, but then my husband would need to find a minyan for ma’ariv of men doing similar. We ended up agreeing on a brunch for the seudah this year. Eggs, bagels, fruit, veggies and salmon sound like a plan…
Years ago I made a Persian Purim feast… I can’t for the life of me remember what I served, but rice was certainly on the menu.
So, in the spirit of Nutrition Nerd, I’ll teach you how to make brown rice in a crockpot. It’s SUPER easy. Put in a cup of brown rice and 2 cups water. Cook for 2 – 2.5 hours. If, for some reason (you have nothing else going on in your life, right?) you forget the rice, don’t worry, you’ve just got brown rice with crispy edges. The middle is still edible.
Hope you’ve enjoyed my strung together food photo, exotic Persian dish, halachic (Jewish law) note, and recipe all in one post.
Once upon a time, say, about 1000 b.c.e., my ancestors lived in an agricultural world. They sowed seeds around this time of year, brought first fruits in late spring, and celebrated the harvest in the fall. More recently, my grandfathers were businessmen; my maternal grandfather, whom I never knew, worked in the stock market in New York City; my paternal grandfather traveled to New Jersey from Brooklyn, bought eggs, and re-sold them in Brooklyn. My mother, the first generation to live in suburbia, grew tomatoes and cucumbers in our back yard; she bought them as little seedlings. The only seeds my father sowed was grass seed for the lawn.
Last week I was discussing the term 
It’s pea-planting time in New Jersey. I ordered my peas and inoculant; they are sitting and awaiting my having the time and energy to plant them. I already dug a trench where I want them planted.
