Sponge quality was measure of success

WELL, I hope you all had a great Easter. I am only just tucking into my Easter egg as Easter traditionally clashes with the Jewish Passover (Pesach) – a festival commemorating the Hebrews’ liberation from Egypt. It lasts for eight days, during which all leaven – i.e. bread or mixtures with flour and yeast – are prohibited, and only unleavened bread – i.e. matzos – may be eaten.

As children, we always helped our mothers to make up for this by joining them in the kitchen to make delicious cinnamon balls, coconut pyramids, almond macaroons and a special flourless sponge which rises like a cloud… or doesn’t!

A Jewish mother’s ability as a cook was judged on the success of her plava sponge! I’m not kidding! Ladies delighted in having tea at each other’s homes during Pesach to report on. Mini’s/Thelma’s/Fay’s plava!

And, of course, there was always a bowl of Jewish penicillin to look forward to: chicken soup with fluffy matzo meal balls called knedele.

Although occasionally a ‘new’ type of matzo meal was blamed when the knedele turned out like bullets!

A special family meal is held on the first two nights, known as Seder (order) nights, when foods of symbolic significance are eaten. There’s a fairly long ceremony – for little ’uns anyway – but it’s very theatrical and interactive and as children we read the Passover story from wonderful picture books with pieces of card you pulled to change the drawings.

The best page was when the Egyptians reached the Red Sea and you pulled a little tag and the waves swallowed them all up. This was all interspersed with titbits of food along the way before the main meal.

There’s another part of the ceremony when the ten plagues are read out and we all repeat them and dip our fingers into a glass of wine, then dab them on the side of our plates. I can still hear my mother now shouting: “DON’T LICK YOUR FINGERS!” My brother and I, and later nephews and nieces, were always being shouted at for giggling and messing around.

At some stage in the evening, just for the children, the father hides a special piece of unleavened bread called the afikomen, and whoever finds it gets a small reward.

Many years ago, as an adult, I was at my cousin’s in Birmingham for Seder night. There were a lot of us crammed around the table by a wall. One of those ‘if you get in first you’re stuck there all night’ jobs.

Anyway, we got to the part where my cousin’s husband was attempting to hide the afikomen when their large over-excitable retriever bounded in and mounted the table, knocking everything for six, grabbed the afikomen from his hand and ran off, never to be seen again that night!

Of course, I laughed hysterically, especially as my cousin Josephine, never far from her highest register when excited, launched into the kind of voice only dogs and dolphins could hear.

I have so many memories of Passovers gone by. Sadly, with so many of my family no longer around, and others too far away, it’s not quite the same anymore.

Although there is always a family in the congregation ready to include you around their groaning table. In fact, it’s customary to lay a place for a ‘stranger’ at Passover.

And for the past couple of years the Exeter Jewish Community has put on a communal Seder night, and even, during Covid, an interactive one on Zoom.

They say traditions foster a sense of belonging and create positive memories. They also make for great stories for the next generation.

By the way, the dog came back. Eventually!

There was always a bowl of Jewish penicillin to look forward to: chicken soup with fluffy matzo meal balls called knedele