The Carp in the Bathtub

As a postscript to Liz's latest post, I can add that most of my childhood memories of Passover are definitely linked to food. For example, the dry-as-a-bone turkey stuffed with an equally heinous, cardboard-like farfel mixture served at my Aunt Roz's seder. No comparison with the tender and flavorful brisket with winey gravy featured at my mom's house. (Despite being a committed vegetarian, I am dutifully serving the same brisket at our seder. If I didn't, I think Steve would refuse to come! BTW, his mother always served beef fillet, asparagus boiled to within a inch of its life and then sherbet for dessert. Josie did make the best ever chicken soup and the lightest matzo balls in the world but her "secret" ingredient I learned one year was baking soda, definitely not kosher for Passover.)

Then there was the time my mom and I actually made gefilte fish from scratch. No carp in the bathtub but we spent hours hand chopping the fish in a big, wide wooden bowl scarred from years of use that once belonged to her mother. We topped off the afternoon by nearly asphyxiating ourselves by grinding horseradish root in the kitchen. Choking and wheezing from the fumes, we moved the entire operation outside to the porch. Needless to say, the whole gefilte fish/horseradish experiment in Passover authenticity was never and will never be repeated. I have a cousin who serves an gefilte fish terrine and claims it is fabulous but I think the very concept is an oxymoron.