By Debbie Cohen
The day my younger daughter came home from pre-school singing this rhyme (a play on words of the verse said after completion of the last parsha in each book of the Torah), I remembered that I had a chocolate cake in the freezer. At the end of lunch that Shabbos, I served it for dessert while reciting the above phrase. The faces of my children expressed their sheer delight. An ordinary cake was elevated to a "chazak cake", more than just a mere dessert.
This spring, my daughters, ages six and eight, began asking if I was going to do things I had done in previous years. Prior to Purim, they asked if we would be baking "v'nahafoch hu" chocolate chip cookies. Applying the Purim theme of v'nahafoch hu -- it was turned about -- the dough is chocolate and the chips are white in our cookies. On Erev Pesach, they asked if I was going to make the special Pesach noodles. Of course, I answered the happy faces, we have to put something in the soup.
The milchig (dairy) kiddush on the second day of Shavuos already seems to be a foregone conclusion to my kids. They so look forward to this, they don't even ask if it will happen anymore, just: what will we bake and who will come. I've learned over the years that if you bake it, they will come (especially for homemade cheesecake). So we baked, and then we baked some more. We baked cheesecake tarts, rugelach, plain cheesecake, carrot cake, and a three layer cheesecake. Bring out the Tums.
Then I realized what had happened. Without any scheme or plan in mind, we had managed, somewhere along the way, to acquire our own unique family traditions. And these traditions, of which food is just one, connect us from year to year.
In tones ranging from awe to disdain, people have asked me why I would work so hard when most everything can be bought. I admit, baking homemade things is more work than buying them from the bakery but in the book Akeres Habayis, (pg. 143), Sara Chana Radcliffe writes, "homemade goodies convey love and care and the idea that I have time for you". Maybe this is one small way that I am able to give my kids a little something extra, but it goes beyond that.
Like many other aspects of the secular world, the trend toward convenience and ease has seeped into the frum world. Today's ba'alebuste doesn't have to work as hard at home as her grandmother, or her mother for that matter. Some products, such as frozen challah dough, are made so that if we don't have the time to bake from scratch, we can thaw, shape and bake it ourselves. Nowadays, many people think that homemade gefilte fish means a frozen loaf from the freezer section. So, for the majority of us who can't stomach gefilte fish from the jar, we can buy a frozen loaf that just needs to be tossed into boiling water with some spices, onions and carrots. And for $2.99, you can buy a cholent kugel -- a combination of flour, oil, grated onion and spices with a profit margin that makes me cry as if I had grated the onions myself.
This seems contradictory to the Jewish way, where we learn that reward comes from the effort expended, not just the result. Many people today are recipients of lavish shaloch manos baskets that are either purchased ready made or are from organizations, such as schools or shuls, to raise money. These baskets overshadow the personal, more heimishe shaloch manos from individuals. Thinking that no one would notice hard work among the extravagance that now characterize Purim, the inspiration to put extra work into shaloch manos was diminished for me. This year I realized that someone would notice, for without v'nahafoch hu cookies, Purim is not complete for my children.
And it's not all about eating. My children, like most children, love to help with baking. My personal beis din convenes as my three children each look at and render an opinion before an egg is deemed blood free and can be dropped into the bowl. They take turns pouring in the other ingredients and then lay their hands on Mommy's when we use the mixer. It's a family effort and everyone gets to take credit for the dessert.
In reviewing Pirkei Avos, I noticed that there are ten examples in which information is conveyed from one individual or group to another individual or group. Two of the references, use the term "mesorah" (to transmit). In the other eight situations, the term "kebale" (received) is used. In these examples, the emphasis on the transmission of the information is on the recipient. In my home, as in every Yiddishe home, it is the children who are there, to "kebale" the information and traditions we can impart to them.
Approaching Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, and Sukkos this year, I hope my trembling will be in anticipation of Yom HaDin, and not for all the time I will spend in the kitchen. Should I work so hard? Yes, I should. Now is the time that the neshamas of my children are most "m'kabel" (receiving), of what I am giving them. This is the time their memories are being created. While I am able, I want my children to see their mother work hard for Yom Tov and Shabbos (and please let me have a smile on my face and pleasant words while I do it)! I've come to realize that its not the cookies I'm baking, it's the traditions that I'm making.
