We have celebrated my brother's birthday at Benihana forever. It's one of our few family traditions - like Thanksgiving at the Brown's or endless rounds of Scene It on Xbox. Benihana on Andrew's birthday is one of the few constants in my family's yearly plans.
Every year, we gather 'round the communal table, usually with a few of Andrew's friends and two random unlucky people who have to put up with our noise. We order the same thing and watch it cooked before our eyes. It's fun, and exciting, and man, that place is a gold mine.
Prior to the main course, everyone gets served a hot shrimp appetizer. It's a perfect little moment of deliciousness - the right amount, the right flavor, the right taste to get you going before the big show of Hibachi chicken or teriyaki steak.
This year, for the first time ever, I did not even let that succulent shrimp touch my plate. I simply motioned for Baldo, our chef, to pass it along one to the left. He did it without question, and my brother was happy to receive two extra helpings of bottom-rung sea creatures. (Mom doesn't eat fish) But there I sat, watching him eat that shrimp, with more than a few questions remaining on my own figurative plate.
Since Rosh Hashanah I have "kept kosher." Aside from one slip at a tapas restaurant last weekend (in my defense, I was starving and thought I was going to eat my friend Emily's left arm) I have managed to maintain it well. My definition of Kosher is: no mixing milk and meat, no pork or shellfish, and certainly no bacon. That's where I'm starting, and so far it's been easier than I expected.
Why am I doing it? For me, it goes beyond this blog. It's more than the allegiance I pledged to my Year of Living Jewish. It's above acting as a symbolic exemplar in whatever community in which I happen to find myself.
I'm doing this because, after one month, I do feel some small elevated sense of self with relation to my diet. I feel a little bit different on a spiritual and emotional level. There's something powerful in saying to those I break bread with, "no, I'm not going to eat that, because my religion stands for something." There's also something a little elitist in setting oneself apart in that way, even when the vast majority of my close friends are Jewish.
Many - my brother in particular - have laughed at me when they've heard about this new foray into kashrut. People who have known me for years know that I find certain Jewish traditions and rituals absurd, and that I'm quite vocal about it. I think others also got a kick out of hearing a future rabbi talk about her love for bacon. Which, quite frankly, I'm kind of regretting now. Not because I'm embarrassed, but because I do think a rabbi should be more guarded with her words. But that's a whole other blog entry...
The truth of it all is, I do feel different. I do feel just a little bit more connected to the laws I'm studying every day at school. I do feel a little bit more like I'm talking the talk and walking the walk. And it feels much more positive than negative. I feel that I'm gaining something much more often than I feel like I'm missing out. I'm going further into the deep end, instead of staying in the shallows where it's comfortable, easy, and safe.
By the way, you want the real truth? The shrimp at Benihana really isn't that great.
And bacon, while delicious, is just one of many, many incredible, succulent, artery-clogging culinary possibilities.
Keeping myself distanced from certain foods, maintaining a level of sanctity within my own body, and continuing to think about its spiritual/emotional/religious/physical impact on me will, I hope, encourage you to think about where you maintain kosher and non-kosher boundaries in your own life. Maybe not with food, but with other indulgences, joys, pleasures, and needs.
Where do we set the boundaries? What's "in" and what's "out?" And how does it make us feel, as people - religious and secular - and as functioning members of groups and cultures? I would love to hear your thoughts.
Check back next week when I blog about my first-ever trip to the mikveh.
Be well, stay well, eat well.
Jaclyn
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