Flour Power

So tonight’s the first night of Passover. And you know what this means, don’t you? This means that for, like, an entire week, Jews are not permitted to eat anything leavened. Cakes, pies, cookies? No thank you, gentle gentile friends. Bread, pretzels, pot pies? No can do. Rugelach? No. Pancakes, waffles, biscuits? Nope, nope, and nope. Our own signature bread — the bagel? Absolutely not.
Of course, this stuff is permitted if it’s made with, like, matzoh meal or somethin’. Still, I’m sorry, but a brownie made with matzoh meal is just too farfel-fetched for me to wrap my brownie-lovin’ brain around. And since I’m a baker’s granddaughter, I don’t accept anything other than the highest quality baked goods.
If I actually participated in Passover and played by its rules, today would be the day I’d be running all over Manhattan, to all the best bakeries, to get my fill before sundown … jamming my cake-, pie-, and bagel-holes (and no no no, don’t be an asshole and send me mail about other holes) full of all the leavened goods I could get my hands and mouth on. But since I don’t celebrate, I don’t have to pass over anything for the week that the real Jews will be pretending they wouldn’t kill a little goy boy for his Ring Ding.
I’m so rebellious, in fact, that this evening at sundown, I will be sifting an entire five-pound bag of flour directly into my mouth. See, it’s either my way or the Yahweh!