Cooking up a storm—and praying a lot

Spirituality—yours and mine—has been on my mind a lot on this Good Friday. I am only the least bit knowledgeable about two faiths—Christianity and Judaism—but I know for both this is the season of renewal and hope. Yet to get to that hope we have had to suffer through darkness—for Jews, it is bondage in Egypt, and Passover celebrates the release; for Christians, it is the crucifixion and Easter celebrates the Resurrection and Risen Christ. For all of us, it means our God, whoever, blesses us with hope. And I for one am deeply grateful.

Tonight Jordan had a b’day gathering for a friend, a girl I’m particularly fond of. I wasn’t invited—young women’s gathering—but assured the regulars would come see me. At 9:30, none have come to the cottage except one with whom I had a good visit.

I have been cooking a lot or so it seems—maybe some of it is anticipatory. Last night, Betty came for supper and we had a frozen spanakopita that Jordan baked for me. It remained pale and today, with leftovers, I discovered the trick—put the pieces in my toaster oven, they browned, and the result was much better. I had made a smoked salmon spread for an appetizer.

Tonight I made myself salmon cakes with an ear of corn and sautéed zucchini. So good, though it’s a fair amount of work in my small kitchen and a lot of dishes to wash. Tomorrow I’ll make pea salad to go with my leftover salmon cake.

Tomorrow I’ll make meatballs for our Easter brunch, and what a recipe calls “Crack Matzoh”—topped with brown sugar/butter/chocolate/chopped nuts and baked. Sounds yummy. We’ll go to 9:00 services and then have friends for brunch. Looking forward to it, as Easter is always a special day to me

I remember my Chicago childhood. I always had a fancy new Easter dress, often some light transparent spring-like material. And then had to wear my heavy winter coat over it. We usually had ham for Easter dinner, though maybe a time or two we had lamb. I wasn’t as menu conscious as I am now. In fact, I’m surprised that my memories, beyond the dresses, are so vague.

This year, in this household, we have outgrown egg hunts, for the first time. Another milestone to be greeted with sadness and joy.

Blessed holidays to each and every one of you, no matter your religious stripe. Take heart in this season of renewal and hope.