This past week marked the yahrzeit of my great-grandmother z”l, a valiant Holocaust survivor from Kovno, Lithuania, and an incredibly talented seamstress.
Here we are, admiring the latest in December 1970 fashion:
.יהי זכרה ברוך
May her memory be blessed, and may she be a meilitzat yosher for all her grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren, yblt”a.
!שבת שלום ומבורך
It was one of those rare confluences of events.
B”H, we had plenty of lemons on our tree; we were in the mood for something more substantial than lemonade; and the Studentit had some time on her hands in between studying for finals.
<brief cultural observation>
Back in the Old Country – or at least back in the part of the Old Country centered around Midtown Manhattan’s 34th and Lexington – four weeks typically separated the fall and spring semesters: a week to study (aka “reading week” בלעז); an intense examination week, which often involved two finals per day; and then two blissful weeks of vacation.Meanwhile, here in Israel, intersession (i.e. chofshah bein hasemesterim, for the Hebraically-oriented amongst you) also lasts four weeks, but the difference is that finals are spread out over the entire month. In other words, although one never really gets to enjoy an actual vacation, one is spared the stress and pressure of having all the exams in a single week.
But I digress…
</observation>
All this is to say that to the delight of the denizens of TRLEOOB*, the aforementioned convergence had a delicious result:
Lemon Cake
Adapted from “Kosher by Design”
Ingredients
Glaze
Directions
Mix sugar, flour, and baking powder. Add juice, oil, and vanilla. Beat in eggs and mix well.
Pour batter into oiled and floured bundt pan. (We used a tube pan without a removable bottom.) Bake at 325 degrees for 50-60 minutes or until done.
As soon as the cake comes out of the oven, use a toothpick to poke holes all over the top of the hot cake, and immediately pour the glaze all over the cake and especially into the holes.
Let cool in pan before serving.
!בתאבון ושבת שלום ומבורך
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*TRLEOOB=the real life equivalent of our blog
Back by popular demand, YZG (aka “Mr. S.”) – known to veteran Our Shiputzim readers for his Solomonic wisdom, his erudite halachic discourses, and his ability to replace gas oven ignitors – graciously agreed to write a book review.
Take it away, YZG!
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“Koren Talmud Bavli – Tractate Sukka (Noé Edition)”
by YZG
Koren Publishers kindly provided us here at Our Shiputzim with a review copy of their newly released “Koren Talmud Bavli – Tractate Sukka.” We received the standard-sized hardcover edition (“The Noé Edition”), which includes full-color pictures and diagrams.
The timing was perfect, since I am currently learning Masechet Succah with my chavruta. We used the “Koren Talmud” during our next learning session.
The Gemara is beautifully designed and divided into two parts.
When you open it as a Hebrew sefer (i.e. from the right), you will find the traditional Vilna Shas layout. However, vowels and full punctuation have been added to both the Gemara and Rashi texts. That by itself is a significant aid to learning, and for many, that alone will make the Gemara worth getting. Of course, as can be expected from Koren, the printing is clear and a pleasure to read, and the text is printed on off-white paper, which is easy on the eyes.
When opened as an English sefer (i.e. from the left), you will find the text of the Gemara alongside an English translation. The translation is brand new and based on the principles set out by Rav Adin Even-Israel Steinsaltz and overseen by the editor-in-chief, Rav Tzvi Hersh Weinreb. The translation is clear, concise, and easier to follow than other English translations I have used. For instance, words that are literal translations of the Gemara’s Aramaic text are shown in bold, and words that are derived from other languages have interesting sidebars (called “Language”), describing their etymology along with more in-depth explanations of their meaning.
In addition to the “Language” sidebar, there are other sidebars called “Notes,” “Background,” “Personalities,” and “Halakha.” My chavruta and I found these sidebars to be very helpful. In particular, we liked that the sidebars were divided into different types, because the divisions make it clear where to look for different types of information:
The “Koren Talmud Bavli” includes full-color photographs and diagrams, which prove that a picture really is worth a thousand words. For instance, when the Gemara talks about fibers growing around a palm tree, a photograph of a palm tree shows exactly what these fibers are. Also, Masechet Succah famously discusses many different succah configurations, and the clear diagrams help make sense of it all.
In summary, I highly recommend the “Koren Talmud Bavli – Tractate Sukka,” and my chavruta and I look forward to using it as we continue learning the Masechet.
Note: I was not paid to review this sefer, but we did receive a review copy from Koren Publishers.
****
Great job and thank you, YZG!
In the spirit of Facebook’s recent spate of “Look Back” videos, here’s a really beautiful one:
אָבִינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַיִם, צוּר יִשְׂרָאֵל וְגוֹאֲלוֹ, בָּרֵךְ אֶת מְדִינַת יִשְׂרָאֵל, רֵאשִׁית צְמִיחַת גְּאֻלָּתֵנוּ. הָגֵן עָלֶיהָ בְּאֶבְרַת חַסְדֶּךָ, וּפְרֹשׂ עָלֶיהָ סֻכַּת שְׁלוֹמֶךָ, וּשְׁלַח אוֹרְךָ וַאֲמִתְּךָ לְרָאשֶׁיהָ, שָׂרֶיהָ וְיוֹעֲצֶיהָ, וְתַקְּנֵם בְּעֵצָה טוֹבָה מִלְּפָנֶיךָ. חַזֵּק אֶת יְדֵי מְגִנֵּי אֶרֶץ קָדְשֵׁנוּ, וְהַנְחִילֵם אֱלֹקינוּ יְשׁוּעָה וַעֲטֶרֶת נִצָּחוֹן תְּעַטְּרֵם, וְנָתַתָּ שָׁלוֹם בָּאָרֶץ, וְשִׂמְחַת עוֹלָם לְיוֹשְׁבֶיהָ.
וְאֶת אַחֵינוּ כָּל בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל, פְּקָד נָא בְּכָל אַרְצוֹת פְּזוּרֵיהֶם, וְתוֹלִיכֵם מְהֵרָה קוֹמְמִיּוּת לְצִיּוֹן עִירֶךָ וְלִירוּשָׁלַיִם מִשְׁכַּן שְׁמֶךָ, כַּכָּתוּב בְּתוֹרַת מֹשֶׁה עַבְדֶּךְ: אִם יִהְיֶה נִדַּחֲךָ בִּקְצֵה הַשָּׁמָיִם מִשָּׁם יְקַבֶּצְךָ ה’ אֱלֹקיךָ וּמִשָּׁם יִקָּחֶךָ. וֶהֱבִיאֲךָ ה’ אֱלֹקיךָ אֶל הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר יָרְשׁוּ אֲבֹתֶיךָ וִירִשְׁתָּהּ וְהֵיטִבְךָ וְהִרְבְּךָ מֵאֲבֹתֶיךָ.
וְיַחֵד לְבָבֵנוּ לְאַהֲבָה וּלְיִרְאָה אֶת שְׁמֶךָ, וְלִשְׁמֹר אֶת כָּל דִּבְרֵי תּוֹרָתֶךָ, וּשְׁלַח לָנוּ מְהֵרָה בֶּן דָּוִד מְשִׁיחַ צִדְקֶךָ, לִפְדּוֹת מְחַכֵּי קֵץ יְשׁוּעָתֶךָ. הוֹפַע בַּהֲדַר גְּאוֹן עֻזֶּךָ עַל כָּל יוֹשְׁבֵי תֵּבֵל אַרְצֶךָ, וְיֹאמַר כֹּל אֲשֶׁר נְשָׁמָה בְּאַפּוֹ:
ה’ אֱלֹקי יִשְׂרָאֵל מֶלֶךְ וּמַלְכוּתוֹ בַּכֹּל מָשָׁלָה, אָמֵן סֶלָה.
(Tefilah L’Shlom HaMedinah – The Prayer for the Welfare of the State of Israel)
As you may recall, our almond tree (i.e. our shkeidiyah, for the Hebraically-oriented amongst you) is, how shall I put this, um, well, rather, um, flower-challenged.
I mean, it got to the point that the only way we could sing the classic Tu B'Shvat song about the blossoming almond tree was with a healthy dose of irony and a great deal of snickering.
But as it turned out, the tree would be the one to have the last laugh.
Because sometime last year, we suddenly noticed that somehow, we were now the proud owners of a second – and more flourishing – almond tree. Apparently, seeds from the first tree had landed on the ground and had started growing.
And as if two almond trees weren’t enough, this year we discovered that there is now a THIRD – albeit still very small - tree on the premises!
Which means that we may have to rename TRLEOOB* to the Shiputzim Family Almond Orchard (i.e. pardes shkeidim, for the Hebraically-oriented amongst you).
But I’ll let you be the judge of that:
(As always, please click on the pictures for a much better view.)
!שבוע טוב וחודש טוב
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*TRLEOOB=the real life equivalent of our blog
Seeing as how I’ve been shamelessly neglecting this poor blog (for a change…) in recent weeks, you’ve probably been wondering what the Shiputzim family has been up to.
Here, then, are a number of vignettes, which should give you some idea of what’s been going on here in TRLEOOB*:
Scene #1
The Ulpanistit: [walks in the door at about noon]
Me: “Why are you home so early?”
The Ulpanistit: [surprised at the silly question] “Because we got our report cards today!”
Me: [shows my oleh roots again] “So?”
The Ulpanistit: [can’t believe that her mother is this ignorant] “So we NEVER finish after twelve on the day we get teudot…”
Me: [reluctantly concedes defeat and chalks this up to #yetAnotherThingI’llNeverUnderstand]
Scene #2
Me: [makes a sarcastic comment about the Shminist’s countless free periods]
The Shminist: “It’s your own fault, you know. Don’t forget that you’re the one who paid extra for me to take dovrei Anglit classes and do the 5-point English bagrut in 10th grade.”
Me: “Yeah, that part I remember.”
The Shminist: “Well, you should thank the yeshiva. They threw in two years of free periods at no extra charge…”
Me: [knows that there’s something wrong with his logic, but just can’t put my finger on it]
Scene #3
Certain Shiputzim Child: “We have a peulah in fifteen minutes, and I need to bring a chatif.”
Me: “Why did you wait until the last minute to tell me?”
Certain Shiputzim Child: [indignant] “I didn’t wait until the last minute! It’s just that I only remembered about it now…”
What has YOUR family been up to lately?
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*TRLEOOB=the real life equivalent of our blog
The following originally appeared nearly three years ago, and since then, it continues to be one of the most popular posts on this blog. In honor of Tu B’Shvat, I figured a repost was in order. (You can also see more of the fruit in TRLEOOB* here and here.)
The Our Shiputzim Step-By-Step Guide to Eating a Pomelo
As always, please feel free to click on the pictures for a better view.
Step 1: Head on over to your nearest pomelo tree:
Step 2: Pick a ripe pomelo:
Step 3: Bring the fruit inside; wash well; and use a knife to score the skin:
Step 4: Start removing the thick peel:
Step 5: Continue peeling…=255B4=255D.jpg "IMG_3175 (2)")
Step 6: …Until all the skin has been removed:
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Step 7: Split open the fruit and separate trumot u’ma’asrot (CYLOR for details):=255B4=255D.jpg "IMG_3185 (2)")
!ט”ו בשבט שמח
Happy Tu B’Shvat!
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*TRLEOOB=the real life equivalent of our blog
Warning: The following post may exceed the recommended daily allowance for long, drawn-out tales of, er, woe and suffering. Proceed at your own risk.
I have many fond memories of my college years.
But registering for courses is certainly not one of them.
It all started with my first semester at Stern. Incoming students signed up for courses after all the upper classmen, and due to the vagaries of the alphabet, I was one of the last students in the entire school to register.
Which meant that by the time my turn came around, the pickings were fairly slim.
I still shudder when I recall running up and down the stairs between the registrar’s office and the computer room, where a large monitor displayed all the closed courses. (“What do you mean EVERY section of freshman composition is closed?! How can I be closed out of freshman comp?!! I’m a freshman!!”)
Desperate, I had no choice but to ignore my mother’s cardinal rule.
The key to a successful college career, she had declared, was to push off taking the dreaded speech class (a general requirement for all Stern students) until one’s senior year, in hope that the academic powers-that-be would somehow be inspired to change the requirements and allow one to graduate without it.
(The fact that speech was still a requirement nearly two decades after my mother had graduated Stern should have been my first clue that the strategy was doomed to fail. But I digress…)
But since there wasn’t too much else left to take that first semester, I was forced to sign up for speech.
(Postscript: The silver lining was that during our senior year, when all my friends were groaning their way through speech, I had the smug self-satisfaction of knowing that I no longer had to deal with that misery. But once again I digress…)
But B”H, in the intervening years - during which time I graduated college; YZG and I got married; we made aliyah; I started a blog; I neglected that blog; and so on – I was gradually able to come to terms with my, ahem, ordeal.
You see, I was secure in the comforting belief that technological advances would ensure that the Shiputzim kids would be spared the same registration trauma.
Fast forward to two weeks ago, when the Studentit called home in the middle of the day.
Registration for the spring semester had just opened, and she was having trouble registering. Could I please help her, she wondered.
Suffice it to say that although the Studentit attends an internationally-acclaimed institution of higher learning, which boasts some of the country’s finest engineering and computing minds, she and I spent the next two hours glued to our respective computer screens, as the supposedly sophisticated online registration system crashed ignobly right before our very eyes.
It seems the French may be on to something with their whole “plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose” thing (i.e. אֵין כָּל חָדָש תַחַת הַשָמֶש – for the Biblically-oriented amongst you).
[raises glass]
Well, here’s hoping that the registration system improves by the time the Shiputzim grandchildren (BA”H) are ready for it…
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=255B9=255D.jpg "IMG_3193 (2)")
