Throughout my entire life, I’ve gotten strange looks when I tell people I’m Jewish. It’s not because to be Jewish was incredibly odd or out of the ordinary in Colorado. It’s because I don’t really look Jewish. I guess it must be because my Asian genes are a bit more apparent than my Jewish ones. But, I am genetically Jewish. My mother is Jewish and therefore, so am I. So, that means when March comes around, we don’t bust out the ham and the chocolate for Easter, we bust out the charoset and the matzo for Passover.
My favorite part of the traditional Seder has to be matzo ball soup. It’s basically chicken noodle soup minus the noodles and plus dumplings made from ground up matzo (the cracker-like bread traditional to the holiday) and egg. Coming to New York was a sort of revelation to me-every diner I’ve ever been to here has matzo ball soup on the menu, something that was a bit out of the ordinary for a girl from the west.
I should have known that my favorite store in the world-Westside Market-would of course have matzo ball soup. I have yet to be disappointed in the goods at the market so when I was wandering around after getting back from spring break and getting pretty hungry, I decided to explore the shelves of Westside to find something delicious for dinner. It was rather cold and I had spent the entire day on a stuffy plane, so a good cup of soup was just what I needed. I spied some matzo ball soup and my mind was made up. The soup was chock full of chicken, vegetables, and best of all, gigantic matzo balls somewhere between the size of a baseball and a golf ball. It made for a wonderful first meal back and a good way to start the end of the semester.