An update on the seder:
All turned out okay, although the process of getting the brisket to the table was maddening. After the fiasco of the frozen bricks of brisket, I discovered that my pricey purchase (about 400 RMB for 6-7 pounds, which works out to almost $10 a pound) was more fat than meat.
Fat gives flavor, but too much fat is just...fat. So I dutifully seared the fat and then slow roasted the brisket for three hours. At the end, I went into my kitchen and opened the oven door. Smoke poured out. The fat had dripped over the sides and was burning.
Now I really had a dilemma. The air outside was hazardous, so opening the windows would be a tradeoff that didn't seem like a good option. At the same time, my kitchen was full of smoke.
I ran the vent fan over the stove and opened two small windows in the back of the apartment, enough to "clear" the air. Then after closing the windows again, I set up our fancy air purifier in the dining room and ran that at high speed for the rest of the day.
"Good thing we don't have smoke detectors," I said to Bob.
Meanwhile, the process of moving the very full pan of brisket out of the stove caused me to spill some -- okay, spill a lot -- on the kitchen floor. I did this not once but three times. The amount of swearing that came from the kitchen was not in keeping with Passover, Holy Week, or any religious festival for that matter.
The kitchen floor was now an oil slick that looked more like the Texas Chain Saw Massacre than a white-tiled floor.
So the real miracle of Passover this year was that no one took a pratfall on the oil slick. Next year in Washington.
All turned out okay, although the process of getting the brisket to the table was maddening. After the fiasco of the frozen bricks of brisket, I discovered that my pricey purchase (about 400 RMB for 6-7 pounds, which works out to almost $10 a pound) was more fat than meat.
Fat gives flavor, but too much fat is just...fat. So I dutifully seared the fat and then slow roasted the brisket for three hours. At the end, I went into my kitchen and opened the oven door. Smoke poured out. The fat had dripped over the sides and was burning.
Now I really had a dilemma. The air outside was hazardous, so opening the windows would be a tradeoff that didn't seem like a good option. At the same time, my kitchen was full of smoke.
I ran the vent fan over the stove and opened two small windows in the back of the apartment, enough to "clear" the air. Then after closing the windows again, I set up our fancy air purifier in the dining room and ran that at high speed for the rest of the day.
"Good thing we don't have smoke detectors," I said to Bob.
Meanwhile, the process of moving the very full pan of brisket out of the stove caused me to spill some -- okay, spill a lot -- on the kitchen floor. I did this not once but three times. The amount of swearing that came from the kitchen was not in keeping with Passover, Holy Week, or any religious festival for that matter.
The kitchen floor was now an oil slick that looked more like the Texas Chain Saw Massacre than a white-tiled floor.
So the real miracle of Passover this year was that no one took a pratfall on the oil slick. Next year in Washington.
Debbie, you are the best Catholic Jewish Wife EVER. If there is a heaven you are definitely getting in!
ReplyDeleteNot if any of my comments in the kitchen that day were heard. :)
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