Rosh Hashanah 5775

For years now, I have been hosting the Rosh Hashanah first night dinner. I started when making a holiday meal was just too much work for my mother. Initially, she still made the gefilte fish, the best I have ever tasted, but I did the rest of the work. My father would purchase the turkey so it could still be his dinner and to ensure for my mother's sake, that the meat was kosher. Often the gesture was more aggravation than it was worth. I shudder to think of what my father thought of me if he thought that I would cook non kosher meat when I knew how important it was to my mother. I remember one year when we were not a big group, he bought just half a turkey, leaving me to wonder how to roast just half a bird.

Fortunately, it did not take long to realize that no one in the family, other than my mother, knew how to make the fish. It was a tradition that I did not want to see vanish. At first, I asked for the recipe. It existed only in her head and in her taste buds. She could easily tell me the ingredients, but not the quantities. How did she know when it was right? By tasting the fish until the balance of sweet and salty was right. Because not everyone liked the sweet fish that my father preferred, she always made two separate batches, the obligatory sweet as well as the salt and pepper. I started the learning process by joining her each time she made the fish. I generally am not a slave to a recipe, but I need guidelines. I learned the ingredients in her recipe and the method, adding ice water to the ingredients and stirring by hand for at least an hour. However, it took a number of years until I managed to replicate the taste of my mother's fish. Often the salt and pepper batch lacked enough of either seasoning but the sweet was too watery. I checked each cookbook I had and sites on the internet for a recipe that could compare to my mother's. One recipe was based on 5 pounds of fish, another was too salty, another was too sweet. It was hard finding a recipe with the ground almond my mother used. I tried using parts of a variety of recipes, forgetting what combinations I had used the next time I stared at a bowl of raw ground fish. After a few years, I finally hit the right combination. I also prepare all the fish using my salt and pepper recipe and take off a portion to sweeten. I have finally found what works. I must remember to star that recipe and to note the changes I made so that I can recreate my mother's fish consistently.

This year's dinner was a huge success. I had finished all the preparations with a few hours to unwind before my guests came. Leah came the day before to help me put the extensions into the table and set it with the good china, crystal and the silver. The challah was prepared and frozen two weeks ago. I had completed most of the baking a week earlier. Over the weekend I made the soup and the kreplach. Monday, I made the gefilte fish. Tuesday, I brined the turkey and prepared the elements of the dessert. All that was left was to make was the potato kugel and the glazed vegetables, bake the thawed chalet, put the turkey in the oven and assemble the dessert. For the first time, I did not prepare too many dishes nor fret for two weeks before the event.

That is not too say that the dinner was flawless. I used wonton wrappers for the kreplach. Afraid that overstuffing the wrappers would lead to the kreplach opening during the cooking, I limited the chicken filling to only one teaspoon. They were not full enough and after they were cooked, I had to trim the extra flapping dough off each kreple. Because the oven was taken over by the turkey, I cooked the vegetables in the crock pot. You would think that six hours on low would be enough time. I did and I was wrong. Most of the vegetables were raw and the onions were still crisp and sharp in taste. I turned the crock pot on again after everyone had left and after another few hours a wonderful aroma wafted through the house and the vegetables, including the onions were soft and sweet. The dessert was heavenly and not as hard to prepare as I had imagined. In order to be done all the preparations at least an hour before guests arrived, I assembled the phyllo pastry layers and the tahini infused cream in the early afternoon. The taste of the halva mille feuilles was amazing, but sitting all afternoon, the pastry absorbed some of the moisture of the creme and was soggy rather than flakey.

Willie and his family, dog included arrived early to give Jackson, the dog, some time to acclimatize to the new surroundings. Shortly after that, Irv and his family, including a case of girl guide cookies. Unfortunately, Josh and Christine were in Alaska and I really missed their presence when everyone else was surrounded by their children and spouses. In the past, we had trouble finding a book with the Rosh Hashanah kiddish. This year Willie found it online and read it off the modern version of a siddur, his cell phone.

The dinner went well. The sarcasm and sniping were Non existent. Everyone was warm and friendly. Scarlett tried to feed and play with Jackson between courses. I was relieved that she did not find the size of the dog intimidating. After dinner, she put on her sales hat and everyone bought girl guide cookies. I was surprised, though, that anytime she had to make a food choice she asked Leah whether or not she liked what was being served. I served, Leah cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher after each course. I actually had time to enjoy the company. The challah was sweet and fluffy. The fish was a great success. Irv, who always claims that my cooking is good but not as good as our mother's said that it was the best fish I had ever made. The potato kugel vanished in no time and the turkey was moist and succulent. Unfortunately, I was the only one to enjoy the glazed vegetables after they had cooked for a sufficient length of time. The dessert was amazing. Even Anna who limited her intake to turkey and cranberry sauce, ate it. No one noticed the lack of flakiness in the pastry. And all the baking was delicious. The pinwheel cookies were a big hit. Irv wanted to take some home because they reminded him of the cookies that mom always made. Scarlett took the rest. No one got into a snit. Everyone was warm to one another. Only water was spilled (thankfully no tears). Nothing was forgotten. All the food prepared was served.

That is not to say that the dinner was perfect. I had brewed a pot of David's delicious iced tea and forgot to serve it until Cynthia turned down hot tea. I had put the candles on the table, but forgot to light them. A piece from a chair snapped off and I was quite casual about it. I chatted with everyone but spent a minimal amount of time in the kitchen and when I finally did go in, the leftovers were stored in the fridge, the serving platters were washed and the counters were cleaned. Leah had worked throughout the meal. I appreciated it and I know that Leah enjoys helping, but I wished that she had spent more time with the rest of us in the dining room.

In the past, I have been very tense during the dinners that I used to consider an ordeal rather than a celebration. I like to think that my calm made everyone else feel at ease and in the end the atmosphere was convivial. I wasn't darting around fussing about the final details. It was a relaxed and pleasant evening. I even got a little hug from Scarlett. Here was another occasion when I felt no need for a facade. I was comfortable just being myself. Medication, sleep and therapy have made a world of difference in how I see the world and react to it.

My summer at the cottage with Gila

Minden, July and August 2014

I have intended to continue this blog, but rather than write up each day in meticulous detail, I have decided instead to note what I have learned this summer so far. These realizations are in no significant order.

I have learned that I love cooking for anyone who thinks cooking is magic and raves about the simplest dishes.

I have learned that the  aroma of muffins baking and coffee perking is a delightful way to wake up. Gila is thrilled to greet the day with these scents. She calls them magic muffins. Hardly, but since she has never made muffins, it seems like magic to her.

I have learned that I am an impatient teacher and Gila is an 'I need to do it all by myself' type of student. One day after breakfast, she decided to make her virgin muffins. I helped place the ingredients necessary on the counter. Gila put anything that I had touched back so she could do it herself. I handed her the whisk. She made me put it back so she could get it herself. I told her that the amount of yogurt in the container was enough and it wasn't necessary to scrape it into a measuring cup. She scraped it into the cup anyway. (It was the exact right amount.) I suggested that she measure the salt over the sink, not over the bowl and fortunately, she did follow that piece of advice because the overspill went into the sink, not into the muffin batter. By this time, I had learned. I didn't even try to get out the muffin tin or the little paper cups. The muffins were a great success but took longer to prepare than to bake. I wonder if there will be muffins when I spend another few days in Toronto.

I have learned that baking for breakfast, leftovers for lunch, a full dinner followed by a late evening dessert of ice cream and Baileys is not conducive to maintaining, let alone losing weight.

I have learned that I can easily drink shandies with every lunch and Pinot Grigio at every dinner and not consider myself an alcoholic.

I have learned that there are some courses at the Haliburton School of the Arts and not look and feel like an imposter. There are writing courses, quilting classes, remodeling clothes classes, indigo dying classes. I think I could achieve a measure of success in any one of those courses.

I have learned that each time Gila and I talk, the conversation always becomes about realizations. Even if we start discussing a meal or the view of an sunset together, the conversation morphs into a serious discussion about beliefs and experiences and

I have learned that daily therapy from Dr. Gila has been very cathartic. She understands where I have come from and identifies with many of my experiences. She helps me see my experiences through a less negative prism. The drawback is that she isn't registered on OHIP so this activity could end up being very costly.

I have learned that early in the morning when the lake is very still, you can see debris (organic, I think) insects and sometimes even scum on the surface of the water. This is not very inviting. When the wind picks up or when motor boats and seadoos wend their way around the lake, the water seems much cleaner. I've been avoiding early morning swims for that reason.

I have learned that getting into a pedal boat that is not anchored should not be done one foot at a time.

I have learned that if you head back home when you start getting tired, it is already too late to turn back.

I have learned that if you have knee and ankle issues, four hours in a pedal boat is not the best idea.

On the way to the cottage on Horseshoe Lake Road, we pass rapids at the point where the lake and the river meet as well as the Beth El Bridge. From there it takes an additional four to five minutes to get to the cottage. Sitting on the dock on the lake you can see that there is an entrance to a cove, not too far off. Gila was convinced that the bridge and rapids were at the end of that cove. The best way to confirm this was to take the pedal boat out there to check it out. The bridge is at the end of a cove but it is at the end of the third cove not the first. We had a difficult time recognizing the spot we had passed so many times. When we drive by, we notice the river, the rapids and the bridge. We have never noticed what is on the other side of the road. From the water, what we thought was a beach was just a narrow strip of shore. The sand we saw from the road was not a beach but rather the sandy parking area for this public area. The other side of the road was on a higher elevation with homes overlooking the road. We had never seen these buildings and they looked far too established to have been built in the few weeks we have been in the Minden area. 

We anchored the pedal boat, had a short rest and swim before heading back to the cottage (against the current in the homeward direction). Gila was already in the boat so it was my job to untie the boat from its moorings and then get back in. I found out the hard way that when the boat is floating, you do not try to get in by just stepping into it. One foot got into the craft, the craft started to move away, I tried to hop closer to it, I lost my balance and finally fell into the water. Gila managed to get her camera out and is planning to use the film clip as blackmail. Once Gila and I stopped laughing hysterically, I tried again, this time successfully, by sitting on the edge and swinging both my legs over into the boat at the same time. I'm not sure why that was not my first approach. It certainly was easier, drier and more efficient. By the time we reached our dock, our legs were wobbly, like rubber and we both had difficulty coordinating the simple one foot in front of the other manoeuver needed for walking. I hurt in places I didn't even know I had for several days. I'm not sure when I will be willing to brave the pedal boat again.

I have learned that knitting should not be done on any wooden structure that has spaces between the boards. 

While knitting on the deck, the needle slipped from my fingers as I completed a row and fell straight through a gap, landing under the deck. I had to crawl almost the full length of the deck to retrieve it. For my troubles, I got pebbles embedded into my knees, I found a small paint brush, a pen and finally a toonie for my troubles. One would think I had learned the lesson at that point, but I apparently am a slow learner. Later in the week I was knitting again but this time on the dock at Irv's cottage. The same scenario occurred at the end of the row. No one was willing to crawl under the dock in the water to find it for me, so with some luck, Irv will find it when he hauls the dock in at the end of the season. In the meantime, I'd like to finish the sweater before the end of the summer so I had to buy another pair of needles. Had I learned my lesson with these two incidents? Nope. A few days later I was knitting on the deck and once more, when I finished a row, the new needle fell down under the deck. Again, I had to get down on my protesting knees to retrieve it (and a fork I had dropped the day before). The next time I decided to knit, I spread a towel underneath the chair I was in and even though I dropped the needle a number of times, I still have both of them. Like I said, there are days when I am slow on the uptake.

I have learned how to get farts out of a hollow noodle.

I have learned that before you turn on the stove, you need to make sure that the burner cover is off the burner. I learned that scorched metal sets off the smoke alarm and has a nasty smell that is hard to dissipate.

I have learned to remove any plastic objects from adjacent burners when you are cooking at maximum heat. The kettle here still works, but one of the edges makes it look like a refugee from a Dali painting.

I have learned that in order to share in the costs of living in the cottage, I have to go shopping by myself.

I have learned that to avoid washing dishes you need to say either, "I'm digesting my food, I'll do them later" or "I don't do dishes" while waving your artfully manicured and rhinestoned fingernails.

I have learned that keeping waffles in the oven for two and a half hours renders them as hard as hockey pucks and therefore inedible.

I have learned that I am much better at finding things someone else has lost than something I have lost.

Gila misplaced on of the three remotes that belong to the entertainment centre. She looked everywhere, in the bedrooms, under furniture, in the bathroom, in the kitchen.  She despaired that it was gone forever. As I walked by the sofa, the remote was clearly visible between the throw pillows.
The gold bracelet that I bought at a Northland fundraiser several years ago has gotten into the habit of slipping off my wrist. You would think that I would stop wearing it or get it shortened. That's what a person careful with her possessions would do. I on the other hand .  .  .   The first time I lost it, it was in the sleeve of the sweater I had been wearing. I found it the next day. Then it went missing again when I visited Irv's cottage the first time. I retraced all my steps but could not find it. Five months later, when a guest opened up the bed sofa, he found the bracelet. Now I was determined not to lose it again. I was afraid that the third time, the loss would be permanent. When I was descending the ladder into the lake, I noticed that I had forgotten to remove the bracelet. So, I climbed back on to the dock and put it in the pocket of my fleece where I knew it was safe. Trying to find it at the bottom of the lake would have been a little hard. Two days later, getting ready to go home for a few days, I decided to put my bracelet back on. I looked in the first pocket. No bracelet. I looked in the second pocket. No bracelet. Maybe I had put it in my sweatshirt, not my fleece. Nope, not in either of those pockets. It tried to retrace my steps. I had been cold and tired after my swim. I was wearing the fleece and took a nap on the sofa which also opens into a bed. No luck. I looked under the sofa and beds. I looked in the garden where I had been sitting in the sun. I somehow knew that if I were careless the third time it would likely be gone forever, so I just stopped thinking about the bracelet and accepted that it was gone.A week later, on my return from another visit home, it had turned quite chilly. It honestly felt like a late September day, not a mid August date. Before I went out to barbeque, I put on the fleece to keep warm while waiting for the meal to cook, I put my cold hands into the pockets. At the bottom of the left pocket, I heard a jingle and felt a chain. It was my lost bracelet! I know that I had checked the seemingly empty pockets on multiple occasions, but each time, there was no evidence of any bracelet and yet a week later, there it was! I have put it into my wallet and plan to have it altered once I am home. I just hope it won't play hide and seek when I am packing up for home.

I have learned that I am not as good at multitasking as I thought. Breathing and talking at the same time is very difficult.

I have learned that when the air is chilly, despite the sun, the lake will also be cold. If you are determined, nevertheless, to go in swimming because it is the last day at the cottage, the only way to get into the lake is by jumping. Your entire body gets numb instantly so you can no longer feel the cold.

I have learned that if you stand in a marsh, you will sink into the mud. If you are wearing crocs, the crocs stay in the mud when you try to release your feet. If the crocs are dark blue, they are very well camouflaged and difficult to retrieve.

I learned that if you fall in the mud, even your panties under your leggings get mucky. 

I learned that if you want some wild flowers, it makes more sense to take the long walk to the road than to pick them from the marsh beside the cottage.

I have learned to relax. To get any looser, my bones would have to be removed.

I have learned that when I am low, I function better among people than alone.

I have learned that when I am annoyed, to remember that I speak English and address the problem rather than letting it fester, turning a mole hill into a mountain.

And finally, I have confirmed that having Gila in my life is a godsend.

Despite a few blips, this has been a memorable summer. July started on shaky ground with the Jewish alpha women together for a long, long weekend followed by a few weeks of feeling low and withdrawn. But once I got myself out of the funk, everything became fun again. We laughed constantly and have reached a point where a single word is all that is necessary to remind us of an incident. That word often initiates even more laughter. But we have also had serious moments, relating past memories and events, finding shared experiences and just listening when either one of us feels the need to rejoice, to mourn or to vent.

When my relationship with Judy ended, I felt an enormous hole in my existence. The  hurt, the self recriminations and regret are still there, but having Gila in my life has made me feel more secure about myself and my place in this world. I am finally getting to know who I am. The facades are crumbling and the masks have vanished. My choices, my actions, my reactions, my words are all mine, not the ones I think are expected of me. It is a much easier and satisfying way to live. I have no doubt that there will be moments when the perceived expectations of others will push me off my new path. But by remembering to set and maintain boundaries, I am confident that I will continue to discover that the facades and masks are not needed and I    can continue to emerge from the pit I put myself into for most of my life