You want to know why they have four glasses of wine at the Seder? I’ll tell you. Because after cooking that ridiculous meal all day, four glasses is the only thing that can bring a girl back to sanity. So, let me take you on a guided journey through my day– how lucky for you!
10:00 a.m.- Go to Trader Joes.
10:10 a.m. – Nearly face a head on cart collision in the produce section checking out a guy.
10:11 a.m. – Decide hot guys should not be allowed to shop for groceries before I’ve had my morning caffeine fix. Blame hot guy for my lack of coordination.
11:00 a.m. – Get to my grandmother’s to assume the role as the domestic goddess (that) I am.
11:11 a.m.- Finally find a vintage apron that matches my outfit and decide I’m officially ready to start cooking. I am the best thing since chopped liver. The Millionaire Matchmaker would totally agree.
11:42 a.m. – Decide chopping eggs makes me want a martini– heavy on the vodka, hold everything else.
11:59 a.m. – It has become evident that I will not be eating chopped egg, or other egg like products again in my life. Ever.
12:17 p.m. – Clearly I have earned a lunch break. Clearly. By this point my lunch could come in a grey goose bottle and I would be happy. I also enjoy my last carb concentrated meal.
12:20 p.m.- Bid a tearful goodbye to bread, and all bread-like products. I whisper rest in peace and forget these simple carbohydrates and the special place they hold in my heart. I also console myself by thinking of the fab five pounds I will be losing in the week to come.
12:52 p.m. – Start peeling potatoes.
12:56 p.m.- Manage to slice off almost an entire nail with my potato peeler.
12:57 p.m. – Start dialing 9-1-1 and then realize I might actually live. I am emotionally damaged and will probably suffer from PTSD for years to come, but I will live.
1:20 p.m. – Put a lame looking kosher-for-passover-which-means-it-tastes-nasty kugel in the oven.
1:28 p.m.- Reminded by my grandmother, armed with several four letter words, that wax paper is not oven proof.
1:29 p.m. – Take kugel out and rescue it from the grips of aforementioned evil wax paper.
1:30 p.m.- Realize oven mitts are, in fact, there for a reason.
1:31 p.m.- Stare down the oven. I won.
1:52 p.m.- Stir some concoction on the stove top; put cover back on pot.
2:08 p.m.- Pot bubbles over. Get in a fight with the stove.
2:09 p.m. – Lose fight with stove.
2:20 p.m.- Ask my grandmother if it is time for the first glass of wine yet. She says no.
2:52 p.m.- Decide G-d had it easy because all he had to do was split the Red Sea.
3:14 p.m. – Am no longer allowed near stove or oven.
3:42 p.m.- Attempt to make sure the brisket is awesome and is oh so worthy of Paris Hilton’s “that’s hot.”
3:44 p.m. – Am no longer allowed near sharp objects or any and all kitchen appliances.
4:00 p.m.- Wandering the desert for forty years with no kitchen in sight has never sounded so good.
4:15 p.m. – Completely exhiled from the kitchen. My apron has been retracted. I take comfort in the fact that my frilly apron does not match anyone else’s ensemble. I am now laughing at all the fashion slaves who only have time to make unleavened bread, and not coordinate outfits.
4:30 p.m.- Steal Elijah’s glass of wine. He didn’t have to spend all day in the kitchen.
5:00 p.m.- Eagerly await Seder and more importantly, dinner. Because clearly, I helped.
Chag Pesach Sameach! If Elijah is looking for his wine, tell him giving it to someone who REALLY needs it is a mitzvah.