Column: Passover: Time to be thankful for freedom, family, pasta . . . matzah

04/17/09 - For Jews around the world, food has been the first thing on their minds for the last week or so. Last night, we all bit into the first starchy food in sight. During Pesach - the common Jewish name for Passover - Jews are forbidden to eat chametz, or anything leavened. No bread, no pasta, no pizza and no bagels.

Personally, I broke Passover the traditional way last night with a slice of Ronzio's pizza. Picture me sitting behind an antique computer writing today's article, munching on my savory treat. But hey, now I can hide away my leftover Manischewitz Matzah in the back of my closet with the rest of my kosher for Passover food stash.

This holiday celebrates the freedom of the Jews from their enslavement by the Egyptians. According to the story of Exodus, God instructed the Jews to mark their doorposts with the blood of a slain lamb to protect themselves from the act of slaying the first borns. On the Jewish calendar, the holiday officially begins at sundown on the 15th day of the Jewish month of Nissan.

For the past week I have trekked across campus to the University of Rhode Island Hillel in Fraternity Circle to pick up delicious Jewish foods such as matzah pizza and canadelachs (puffy matzah balls served in a chicken-broth soup, a traditional dish). Although I find my Jewish mother's cooking top of the line, (for anyone who's ever heard the line "Bam! Kick it up another notch!," we're talking the next Emeril Lagasse here, folks), the kosher for Passover food I ate at Hillel was on par.

Don't get me wrong, I miss my dad waking me up at 6:30 a.m. to make matzah breakfast style, mixed with eggs, but sleeping in and still managing to get some was pretty good too.

Growing up in a Jewish family, it became very clear to me at a young age that Passover must be just around the corner when we see half of our synagogue in the kosher foods aisle in the local supermarket. It's like we have a biological clock just for Passover, and the countdown is intense.

My mother always made sure to stock up the year before on matzah and cake mix and macaroons, but somehow, we always ended up buying more. One of my favorite childhood memories of the holiday was tagging along for the ride. It amazed me how many different brands of Matzah there were.

Passover's basically another excuse to get the family together. It all begins when the phone starts ringing off the hook a few days before the first sedar (religious, traditional dinner that marks the beginning of Passover at sundown on the first night.)

My family often prefers to host the first sedar, while my aunt and uncle host th second. I always enjoyed sedars at my house - short and sweet. At my aunt and uncle's house though, they were known to drag on for hours. My uncle always enjoyed watching my cousins and myself as little kids, squirming in our chairs, twisting our mouths in boredom and agony for having to sit still for so long.

Those nights seemed to last forever. By the time this sedar had concluded, we had read every single page of the Maxwell House Haggadah and sung virtually every hymn that existed pertaining to Passover.

But, my favorite part of those evenings was finding the hidden matzah, the afikomen. Along with the glory, the winner received a small cash or toy prize.

Either before or during the sedar, one of the adults hid a half chunk of the square matzah. In my uncle's house, it was usually wrapped up and hidden in a typical area, such as behind a curtain. In my house though, things got creative.

One year, my dad decided to hide a fake afikomen and trick the children, including myself. Inside of a tissue box, he had placed what I thought was an afikomen wrapped in a paper towel. But, unfortunately, the paper towel was actually a hidden note.

"No such luck, try again."

My brother, the one who found it, was so disappointed; pushing me out of the way, he sprinted down the hall to tear apart another room in vain.

Another year, my dad strategically taped the afikomen to the bottom of a kitchen cabinet so that only my brother, significantly shorter than me at the time, could see it. (I'm sure you can guess who won.)

But this year, I wasn't with my family.

Last Wednesday, I attended the first sedar, held at Hillel. I was truly shocked at the turnout. Expecting to see only the usual familiar faces, I was surprised at the arrival of several families from the community, and college communities.

Though I missed out on the Cohen celebration of Passover this year, I enjoyed spending it with my good friends here at my home away from home. It was fun but I have to say, bring on the pasta!