The Bread of Affliction Part 1

Matza. 'Cardboard', as my father called it. In Hebrew, matza is referred to as, 'lechem oni' or the bread of 'poverty', for it is made from only two ingredients-- flour and water--coincidentally the same two ingredients used to make Papier-mâché paste. For the eight days (7 in Israel) of Passover, we are commanded to eat this glue that binds our gastro-intestinal system together. Some masochists actually think it tastes good. These people obviously suffer from some sort of taste bud disorder, but hey, in the end, and considering it must be eaten, they are the lucky ones and must be respected.

I will make no bones about it. I can't stand matza. I eat as little of it as possible (and yes, I've tried the different brands and the different kinds...actually settlling on Shmura matza as my best-of-the-worst). I like matza in matza balls...and that's it. Don't start selling me on the glories of matze brei. I hate the smell, and I hate how it looks. New Hubby is trying to convince me that matza pancakes are yummy. Let him enjoy.

While I'm on the topic, I don't comprehend why ANYONE would want to make matza bagels. I know, I know...YOURS are delicious...and if I tried them, I would change my mind. Well, forget it. The concept is simply gross. And I don't want to hear how I must crunch up matza in chocolate milk because it tastes just like Cocoa Puffs. Yeah, right. And while I'm sounding like Sam-I-Am, I don't want to smother my matza with anything to hide the taste.

I will concede that matza pizza is actually not too bad... matza cheese kugel is okay, too. However, the true test of any Pesach food is whether or not one would eat it AFTER Pesach. Guess what? I would not.

Having said all that, it is precisely because I hate matza that I love it so much. You see, I love that matza forces me out of my comfort zone, and I believe that this is what Pesach is all about.

Growing up, we weren't as 'fortunate' as we are today to have so many products on the shelves that can (theoretically) make Pesach more...palatable. Today, grocery stores are stocked with shelf after shelf of 'imitation chometz' (I made that up), aimed at tricking people into thinking that Pesadik food is as good as, and is as easy to make as the food we have the other 51 weeks of the year. Indeed, I myself have boasted about Pesadik things my mom makes, saying, 'You would never guess it was for Pesach! It takes good enough to have all year!" I obviously wasn't thinking straight. The more I think about it, the more I consider that the attitude I just described smacks of being a little, shall we say, 'anti-Pesadik'.

I'm certainly not advocating that anyone refrain from using any of these products or that we should only make what our grandmothers did. When we sing the Ma Nishtana, however, we need to remind ourselves that this night is different, and embrace the fact that not only the food is different, but that there's a reason for it.

Pesach means different shopping, different foods, and different preparation. It means forgetting where we put the 'whatever' when we put it away last year. It means remembering where we stored the 'thing', so we can retrieve it for cooking, or for the seders. Pesach forces us to operate just a bit differently, and I believe that's essential for us, even if the differences are only slight. We need to feel a bit unsettled. We need matza. We need that glue to keep us grounded.....

....Which leads me to Part 2 of this Matza rant. Stay tuned next week for the Erev Pesach post!