I wish I had a Jewish grand parent to teach me so many traditions.
I want to struggle braiding challah, share laughter, and have old wise hands grasp mine as we partake in a practice longer than we can really wrap our head around.
I want to be taught how to make honey bread, and recognize the smell that escapes the oven.
I want to be told I’m not cutting the potatoes correctly as we prepare to make latkes and watch the first snowfall of the year.
I want to hide my grimace as I try new things, new foods, that aren’t my taste. I want to expand my horizon.
How poetic is it, to want to learn more through food and baking/cooking. Something essential to life, full to the brim with character and history. Something we often overlook.
