LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
CAMPOUT - A Rehoboth Journal: Passover Penguins and Easter Dust Bunnies |
by Fay Jacobs |
Rosie ODonnell has no idea she inspired my Passover Seder.
For readers who might be offended by tales of a decidedly non-traditional holiday meal, bail out now. On the rainy beach weekend before Passover, we watched the movie Another Stakeout with Rosie and Richard Dreyfuss. For reasons waaay too complex to go into here, Rosie, on an official police stake-out, prepared dinner for the stakees and served hard-boiled egg penguins. You gotta see this movie just for the eggs with their black olive heads, arms and feet, perched on a glacier-like white base, surrounded by blue jello water. When the movie ended I re-wound and did freeze frame on the shot of Rosies appetizer penguins. "Thats it, Im serving them for Passover" I pronounced, which scared the heck out of Bonnie. First, nobody ever accused me of having any artistic or cooking skill. And second, theres no section labeled "Penguin" on the Passover Plate. But then I left Passover tradition back in the 70s with my ex-in-laws unctuous three-hour meal, Robitussin-flavored wine and droning devotional readings by people who, apart from Passover, waged more family feuds than Nick at Night. I left them my ex-husband, tooa man who thought keeping a Kosher house meant you could stand in the garage eating non-Kosher pepperoni pizza off the hood of the Buick. Give me an H for hypocrisy. Years later I re-discovered the true spirit of Passover at a gay synagogue: wonderful traditional foods, a family of your own choosing and readings celebrating triumph over oppression, historical and otherwise. Since then Ive been hosting my own Seder to celebrate with friends and usher in the ritual boating season. This time around our chosen family included only two Jewish celebrants and six Gay Goyimthe second G-word, from my grandmothers lexicon, meaning those not of the Jewish faith. Like all my high school boyfriends. I still marvel at the energy my family wasted worrying about mixed marriage. I fixed them. This time I didnt mix gender. Anyway, on Seder Friday I made sure my neglected Maryland house was clean. It may have been Easter weekend, but that was no excuse for dust bunnies. Then I turned to the kitchen. And screamed. Before me was a mountain of matzoh boxes, Gefilte fish jars, defrosting chicken, celery and carrots for soup, horseradish, apples, eggs, and a lamb shank that looked so much like a discard from ER I had to wrap it in foil or wed lose our appetites. Mercifully, Bonnie arrived to take care of the 19-pound turkey and make her Goyisha version of Matzoh ballslight, like dumplings, not sinkers like Grandmas. Meanwhile I prepped the ritual foods for the readings, including mashing apples, pecans, cinnamon and a splash of wine for Choroses (the sweet) and setting out horseradish (its bitter companion). Passover also calls for a symbolic roasted egg. After exploding one in the microwave, I scorched an egg shell with a match, which turned out to be from the Renegade. I didnt know if it was symbolic but it made me want a drink. So I readied the wine. In my book, any holiday requiring you to drink several glasses of grape is a keeper. Since only one guest insisted on Manischewitz and would bring her own, the rest of us would celebrate this happy holiday with Chateau Nerf de Pape 1994. I love alternative rituals! And last, but not least trouble, came six hard-boiled eggs, toothpicks and a bunch of black olives for penguin production. The last time I assembled so many parts, it was a model airplane. "Stick whole olive A atop egg B for penguins head; align egg torso to fusilage C...." If Id had glue I would have sniffed it. I toothpicked quartered olives to the egg for arms and put half olives under the egg for feet, anchoring them with shin splints. At least I didnt have to fool with decals and paint. Bonnie watched in horror as the clock ticked toward sundown and I played with my food. Finally, with six pathetic penguins rolling around the counter, I said screw blue jello, draped a blue plastic grocery bag over a plate for water, and sturdied my penguins on a crustless white bread iceberg. At the appointed hour, Bonnie and I welcomed our guests and introduced our new tradition of Rosie ODonnells Passover Penguins ("You made those ??? Somebody get a camera!"). So we gathered the family at the table to sample from the Passover Plate, enjoy the free-flowing fruit of the vine and read the very abridged Haggadah service. Frankly, we skipped the part about the plagues, having dealt with quite enough of that sort of thing. With respect, sincerity and not a little laughter, we hid the ritual matzoh ("Hide it in plain sight! I only cleaned places you can see!"), mixed sweet Choroses with bitter horseradish between pieces of matzoh (a Passover SMore) and had the youngest member of our family, our adopted son-the-actor, ask the requisite Seder question "Why is this night different than any other night?" "For one thing, were all not at the beach..." "And weve got these damned penguins on the table..." "And this Seder is fun!" After knocking back all the fruit of the vine required by the responsive reading, our combined blood alcohol levels skyrocketed. That is, except for Ms. Manischewitz, whose breathalyzer would register over the legal limit for blood sugar. Oh yeah, along with the reading this crowd did the ritual passing of the drugstore magnifying glasses and I warned everybody to go light on the matzoh lest we need kosher Correctol. For dessert we had the customary sponge cake, and in a nod to Easter, I served Peepsthose pink marshmallow chickens. "Heres one to go with the penguins," somebody said. "Did you see Rosies show today? She said that when you put a Peep in the microwave it inflates to triple its size." So eight fruit-of-the-vine-saturated fruitloops got up from the table, marched to the kitchen, popped a Peep into the microwave and stood, transfixed, then howling, as it started to puff up. And nobody knew if we were laughing at the bloating marshmallow or the eight idiots, median age half a century, following our Passover muse Rosie ODonnell. For the record, the Peep imploded and burned from the inside out like the old Bonanza TV credits. So I gotta thank Rosie for our best Passover ever. We all had a great time and those penguins eventually made great egg salad. Happy Spring everybodyand Hey, Rosie, Im saving Another Stakeouts meatloaf armadillo with cornflake armor for our traditional Christmas dinner. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 8, No. 4, May 8, 1998. |