Zman Heruteinu, Hag He'aviv, Pesach, Passover. A very special time of year, a very emotional Holiday. Here in the Lower Rio Grande Valley, spring came and went, without a real splash or flourish. Back up north Spring is a riot of color, scents and the song of returning birds hearkens us to the mad cleaning frenzy that precedes Pesach. I never did the whole hunt the chometz, but I did feel the three thousand year old call to throw open the windows and spring clean the house.

The last few years a few stray fellow Jews, Barry and myself have made a small and hamish seder. Every time I crack open my frayed and yellowed old Passover recipes and the special Super Supplement Passovers' with Newsday I've collected for over 35 years I can only sit quietly and remember Seders past.

Most of my memories center on the very formal white damask cloth clad and sparkling crystal china laden table my Grandmother Etta would set. Her dining room was an artistic mix of blond and cherry wood with a fabulous chandelier that bounced it's prismatic light off her cut and etched mirror. In the center of all this sparkle and gleam was placed a huge vase of white Gladiolas.

Aside from the ascetics that set off my own desire for interior design, was my grandmothers food. We always arrived after everything was set and the kitchen preparations were just a memory. It was the one time of year we entered the house on Maytime Drive through the front door. All other visits were through the garage, shoes off upon entering, or through the sliding glass doors in the den. We trooped up from downstairs on old sheet covered stairs carefully avoiding the Living room, and headed straight into the kitchen. We were only allowed to sit in the formal blue and white living room on very special occasions. When Grandpa (Pop) played the Steinway& Sons black Mother Grand we were allowed to sit near him on the carpet, watching his slippered feet work the petals and his beautiful spatulate fingers glide and tickle the key board. Pop liked to nap on the thick plush carpet behind the piano that was placed in the pocket of a giant Bay window. If we were very quiet we also could lay down on sacred ground.

It's Pesach, my sister and I have a brand new outfit usually topped off with a hat designed and made by my Aunt Gertie. My brother his blond hair brill creamed to spiky peaks, bow tied with his jacket buttoned in the middle. We never had much in the way of material things in our house and our cloths budget was next to nothing, but when called for I must say we had some ripping outfits. My sister Pam was more the cloths horse and lamented my mothers choices often and loudly. Our Great Aunts and Uncle would make us coats, hats and outfits for the dressy and holiday occasions, on these moments we could really hold our heads up and shine.

Arriving we received our rare kiss from Pop and were seated in the Living room until called to the table. Pop read the service in breakneck Hebrew until the responsive bits and we dutifully told the tale of the Hebrews exile and soujourn as slaves to Pharoh in Egypt. Patifar and his battle with Moses as g-d sent a new message and plague with each demand to free the people of Israel.

Each year we drank the Manischewitz Concord Grape wine and every year my sister found a way to drink more than her four sips and got a wee bit shicka. Erupting in cascades of giggles in appropriately. One of the men hid the afikomen. Reading the Haggadah and singing the songs brought us continuity, and tradition in an other wise traditonless family.Our Da Da Yenu was very rousing. We didn't attend Temple until just before my brother was to be bar-mitzva and the day after we didn't step in the Temple again. Maybe our temple going lasted 3-4 years. My sister and I were out to sea we didn't have a clue but we both felt a connection. Our jewish/yiddishkite roots did not run deep. Passover was our chance to really remember who we were, who our children would ultimately be.

The Four questions were passed down to the youngest and so it went. Grandma disappeared in to the kitchen at some point and no sooner had the men washed their hands and the Hillel sandwich was just a bitter memory then food began arriving. Gefilte fish which I will not apologise for loving, with crain or horseradish hard boiled eggs and salt water, chicken soup with Flanken. My sister and I had Flanken wars, as we both vied for the precious pieces of meat that helped to strengthen the soup. Frankly, I would have been happy to stop the meal right there.

We had at least two meat dishes with roasted chicken, several vegetables and a Potato Nick or kugel and baked Sweet Potatoes. We never ate Tsimmis, or so many of the other dishes I have come to know at other Seders. So my dilemma besides not making matzo balls like my mothers canon balls, was that there was never any real holiday recipe to be gleaned from my grandmothers table. The food was fantastic as she was a fabulous cook, but it was never really the stuff of handing down generation to generation. Etta was also a solo cook no one in her kitchen so as a child I never saw her cook those holiday meals. When I began to take over the Passover from my mom and dad, I had to go in search of Passover. So my collecting began in ernest.

So I opened my tattered collection today and I will share a few of my gems. I wet matzo, so here is my passover "bagels"
2/3 cup water
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
1/3 cup oil
1 cup matzo meal
3 eggs

Bring the water, salt and oil to the boil. When bubbling add matzo meal, stir remove from the heat and cool. Add the eggs 1 at a time, mixing well. Drop by tablespoons on a greased pan wetting hands carefully shape into a bagel form with a hole in the middle.
Bake 350 F 40-45 min.

Passover Carrot Pudding
8 eggs, separated
1/2 cup matzo meal
1/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
2 cups grated carrot
1 tbsp wine
1/2 cup ground almonds
1/2 lemon rind grated

Beat together yolks and sugar till light, add remaining ingredients
Beat whites till stiff peaks and then fold into yolk mixture. Bake in well greased and matzo floured pan 300 F 1 hour

Mashed Potato Pie
4-5 Potatoes
1 onion diced 2 lbs chopped meat
1/2 teaspoon salt, pepper garlic powder ( I add a few grates of nutmeg to the mashed potatoes)
Boil potatoes and mash well putting through a ricer
Brown onion in oil then add chop meat s&p garlic powder
Grease baking dish well and beginning with potatoes layer meat and potato alternately.
Bake 350 F 1 hour until nice and brown on top
Sometimes I add mushrooms to the onion browning process for a richer beefier flavor.

Almond Hills
3 tbs cakemeal or matzo meal sifted
1/4 lb. blanched almonds
1/2 lb. powdered sugar (1 2/3 cups)
5 egg whites

Roast blanched almonds and sliver, beat egg whites stiff, sift in powdered sugar and meal. Add almonds and mix thoroughly. Grease cookie sheet dust well with meal, and drop Tablespoons of mixture onto sheet. Keep room for spreading between hills.
Bake 275 F about 20 minutes cool before removing from sheet.

Many years ago I stopped making apple Haroset. I am allergic to cinnamon and I personally loathe apple anything. So I adopted a wonderful Sephardi recipe and never looked back.

1lbs, pitted dates
2 cups dark currents
1 cup chopped walnuts ( I prefer Pecans)
enough sweet red wine to moisten
a touch of honey or brown sugar

Alternatively Sephardi do not use wine but I would add 1/2 cup honey or brown sugar and lemon juice along with the soaking liquid.

Soak dates and currents over night reserve liquid after draining
Coarse chop fruit add chopped nuts, wine and honey
add back any soaking liquid if mixture begins to dry too much

I find this works the best, if I make the mixture the night before and then adjust for moisture before serving. After all, dates and honey what could be bad?

My spell check had a nervous break down with all of the foreign words, being the notoriously bad speller that I am if I have miss spelled any Yiddish words etc. forgive me.

The highlight of the evening was always watching that rascal Elijah drink from the Kiddush cup and no one can tell me he didn't. The boys ran around looking for the Afikoman and then we were summerly sent down to the den to amuse ourselves till we drooply trooped off home.