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There once arrived at our house a person completely unknown to us, an unmarried lady of about forty, in a little red hat and with a sharp chin and angry dark eyes. On the strength…
I dragged my belongings over to Grandmother’s, my books, my music stand, and my violin. The table had already been set for me. Grandmother sat in the corner. I ate. We didn’t say a word. The door was…
Food was important not just as a means of survival, but also because, as Ma repeatedly told me, “it’s made with love that makes it taste so good.” As a toddler, perched on a chair, I watched each step…
On the nights before Passover, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur, my mother would send me to the butcher with some birds to be slaughtered according to ritual so the meat would be kosher—that is, clean…
My mother often sent me shopping to 18th Avenue (not a far distance, but for a kid it was unfamiliar territory), the district of Middle Eastern groceries, whose shopkeepers were…
Mordkhe Spektor [1858–1925] was the “honorary chair” of the “Society of Gluttons and Drunkards.” Though he had not been elected to this “post,” everyone felt that Spektor was the singular candidate…