
I have been lucky enough to visit Israel four times over the course of the 18 years I have been alive. Even more fortunately, three of these visits have occurred during Pesach. For most people this would conjure up dreamy images of
shawarma platters, or the treat of ordering a steak at any restaurant that serves them. Being vegetarian, however, I found myself in an interesting position. As an Ashkenazi Jew who does not eat
kitniyot, the eight days became even more difficult in a land where many people, grocery stores and restaurants consider kitniyot to be kosher for Passover. During a three-month trip to the Holy Land with my graduating class, my fellow vegetarians and I came to discover that Israelis had little imagination when it came to vegetarian options. At many a fleishig (meat-serving) restaurant we were served peppers stuffed with rice. In a Bedouin tent, we had peppers stuffed with rice upon a mountain of more rice. It seemed the Israelis would offer me little more than a hollowed-out and grilled pepper come Passover.
Eating out with my family on Passover yielded some interesting results. One Passover found us subsisting nearly exclusively on my Bubbie’s vegetable soup and salad prepared with a delicious store-bought dressing. We wondered at the dressing every time we tasted it, unable to fathom how it could be kosher for Passover. At the end of the holiday my mother discovered upon peering at the label that it did in fact contain kitniyot in the form of soybean oil. Another time, as my family and I strolled down the cobbled streets of Zichron Ya’akov, we had to stop, stare and laugh at a sign outside a restaurant: NOT KOSHER FOR PASSOVER—WE HAVE MATZOH. Since pondering this for too long would likely make my head burst, I’ll move on to my next story.
By far my worst dining-out experience occurred in the food court of the Jerusalem Mall (also known as Malcha Mall) during Passover. Of the six or so kiosks open, only one was vegetarian, and even there I was hard-pressed to find something that appealed to me. I settled on an omelet sandwich on a kosher for Passover roll. The lettuce was wilted, the omelet had the texture and color of an old sponge, and I found a short, coarse, dark hair on my plate. I forced down the porous roll feeling nauseous rather than satiated. To add insult to injury, I then had to sit in our rented minivan and cover my mouth and nose against the aroma of the kosher for Passover Burger King fare that my father and brother were eating, the smell of which filled the entire car.
You can imagine my skepticism when we planned to have dinner with family friends at a restaurant called Meat and Wine. My parents apparently forgot that they had reared a child born in 1990 who was now vegetarian. Nevertheless, my mom insisted that she had checked out the situation and they had things I could eat. She was right. The very bottom of the menu promised a generous bowl of pasta made from potato starch and graced with grilled vegetables. It was delightful, and reminded me of the kosher for Passover pasta my mom, my sister and I enjoyed at a hotel in Hertzliyah that was so good made us wonder if we were being fooled and it was in fact made with products considered kitniyot.
Next week I will celebrate Passover without my family for the first time. Since I live in a dorm with no appliances save for a mini fridge and a microwave, I envisioned myself wasting away, subsisting primarily on Matzoh with jam, various dairy products, and fruits and vegetables. When I came home for spring break last week, however, I nearly wept when my parents came home from their morning of shopping in Baltimore and presented me with frozen sweet potato pancakes, mushroom blintzes, macaroni and cheese, eggplant parmesan—all vegetarian, kosher for Passover and microwavable. So like my previous Passovers in Israel, it will be a struggle, but it will be fully worth it knowing that thanks to my family, I will be able to observe the laws I was raised to live by.

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