Kosher for Passover matzo must be made in 18 minutes or less, from start to finish. The result is the basic matzah you know and either love or hate—flat, dry, and reminiscent of cardboard. Shmurah matzah, or matzah that has been guarded, is made the same way that regular matzah is made—except that it's watched from the day the grains are planted in the field to the moment it comes out of the oven. And while there’s certainly a long tradition of eating this kind of matzo, it’s not what is described in the Bible as the Jews left Egypt.
Manischewitz: not the original matzah
First of all, bread made in ancient Egypt would almost certainly have been something like the sourdough bread of today. A starter piece of bread was kept from an old loaf and used to make the dough for new loaves. (For more information and instructions on how to make your own bread this way, click here.) This process did take a reasonable amount of time—certainly a few days—but if you bake sourdough bread before it’s fully risen it will just be denser and sourer. The result would likely be something like a heavy pita, not shmurah matzah.

This isn’t the only discrepancy between the story we’re told and the particulars we can deduce. If you look closely at the text of the Exodus story, the Jews had a full two weeks to prepare for their departure. They didn’t eat unleavened bread because they had to get out quickly, they ate unleavened bread because it’s commanded in Exodus 12:8: And they shall eat the flesh in that night, roast with fire, and unleavened bread; and with bitter herbs they shall eat it. This eating of matzo happened well before the Jews actually left Egypt. It’s part of the eating of the pascal sacrifice, which comes before the final plague, the killing of the firstborn sons. This implies that the Jews were specifically told to make matzah, it wasn’t just an accidental result of their flight. Later in Exodus 12:34, and again in Deuteronomy 16:3, the Torah explains that we eat matzah to remind us of how quickly we went out of Egypt, but the actual eating of matzah happened before the Exodus.

I haven’t been able to find much on the history of matzo, so I don’t know when the matzo we know today became the standard unleavened bread for Passover, but what you pull out of your Manischewitz box probably has very little resemblance to what was eaten in the desert as the Jews fled Egypt.

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Related: Five Things to Know About the Fast of the Firstborn

Fancy Shmancy: a Martha Stewart Passover table setting, replete with Tiffany-blue Haggadah. Excuuuuse me.A haggadah can make or break your seder. Don't believe me? Read the standard Maxwell House Haggadah, and I promise you'll be bored out of your mind. The good news is, there are alternatives out there. Here are five tips to help you choose one that will keep you awake and asking deep questions long into the night.

1. Know Your Audience: Is your seder going to have countless kids? Numerous boomers? A gaggle of teenagers? Ten vegetarians? Several seniors? Keep this in mind when you’re selecting a haggadah. If you're going kid-friendly, you definitely want something with great pictures, and maybe even activities to keep everyone occupied. If there are mostly seniors at your seder, consider choosing something that emphasizes history, or that’s more academic.
2. Check Out the Illustrations: A haggadah with great text but weird illustrations is kind of a drag to use (the Feast of Freedom, for instance). Often the illustrations are a commentary in their own right, so when you’re rifling through haggadahs in the store, check out the pictures: It's a good way of predicting if the interpretation is going to speak to you.
3. Keep Length in Mind: If you’re looking to be in bed by 10:30, you probably don’t want seventy pages of reading during the Magid section. Of course, you can pick and choose what you’ll read, but you don’t want your guests to be overwhelmed. On the other hand, if you like epic seders, then look for a haggadah that’s got plenty of commentary on every page.
4. Look For Themes: If you’re going to be hosting a crew of vegetarians, mostly women, people of many faiths, or tons of tree-huggers, don’t be afraid to check out haggadahs geared specifically to your guest list. Yesterday we told you about ways to make your whole seder themed, but it really all starts with a haggadah.
5. Feel Free to Mix and Match: There’s no rule that says you have to go around the table taking turns reading paragraphs from the same book. If you can’t decide on one haggadah for everyone to use, get an assortment and let people choose the one they like best. You can also copy specific pages you like from different haggadahs (if you’re on a budget, try your local library, where you can check out haggadahs for free) and assemble your own haggadah made up of different parts from different books.

Related: 5 Alternative Seders

 

I don’t know why I get into counting the Omer every year. It’s not the kind of thing I’d expect to like, although it does count the days away from Pesach, and we’ve already established that I’m not a big fan Matzah Week. But the Omer is really us counting towards something, not away from something, which is why the numbers go up instead of down.
Bart's In Trouble: He's behind in his Omer Counting
If you’re new to the Omer, here’s the deal:

You shall count for yourselves -- from the day after the shabbat, from the day when you bring the Omer of the waving -- seven shabbats, they shall be complete. Until the day after the seventh sabbath you shall count, fifty days... -Leviticus 23:15-16

You shall count for yourselves seven weeks, from when the sickle is first put to the standing crop shall you begin counting seven weeks. Then you will observe the Festival of Shavu'ot for the LORD, your God -Deuteronomy 16:9-10

Basically, on the second day of Pesach we’re supposed to get an Omer (which is a unit of measurement) of barley and bring it to the Temple. We do this for the 49 days until Shavuot, and then we have a big party and eat cheesecake. While the basis of the mitzvah is agricultural, it also reminds us about how we change in the period between the exodus and when we got the Torah. The seven weeks of Omer counting are considered partial mourning because we don’t have the Torah yet. Haircuts and new clothes are off limits at least until the 33rd day, you can’t get married unless it Rosh Chodesh or a holiday, and many people abstain for going to live entertainment events like concerts and plays (a capella music is okay, though).

What I like about the Omer is that it’s about consistency, and building up to something, which is basic tenet of how I relate to Judaism. Every night you count, and you’re advancing, it feels weirdly productive. If you forget a day you can come back, but you don’t say the blessing anymore, because you’re no longer eligible for fulfilling the whole mitzvah. It’s kind of cool, really.

It’s also really hard to remember to count every day, especially if you’re not davening every day, or if your schedule changes a lot. Happily, there are a bunch of resources to help you make sure you stay on track.

I’m a huge fan of the Omer Buddy, which sends you two text messages a day reminding you to count, and even tells you the number of days (when counting Omer you say, ‘there are three weeks and three days of the Omer' or whatever's apprpriate. It's by weeks and days). It costs seven bucks, but is awesome. Similarly, over at Torah.org they’re running a process called Project Genesis where they’ll e-mail you a reminder every day. And if you’re a Simpsons fan you’ll love Counting the Homer, a website that has Homer leading you through the seven weeks. There are month calendars, week calendars, and day by day options for your printing pleasure. D’oh! And if cell phones and e-mails aren’t your thing, you can always buy an old fashioned Omer counter, with wooden knobs and pretty text.

Starting Tuesday night, get counting!

Click here for the audio version. 

Click here for the podcast. 

Last week, we ventured into the mysterious terrain of the Leviticus sacrificial cult and its possible modern application. This week, we are delving deeper into the small print of the priestly procedures, focusing on one element that has a lot to do with the upcoming holiday of Passover: the mysterious matzah.

Passover is a product of an elegant evolution. Today it is an elaborate feast, but Passover started around 2,000 years ago as a ceremonial BBQ conducted outdoors under a full moon, with greasy hands, freshly slaughtered lamb and quick words of praise.

Unleavened Only: Jews all over the world wince at the sight of matzah, the no-bread holiday. It's hard to believe that at one time, religious leaders ate matzah year-round.We may have lost the BBQ but we did retain some of the key ingredients, including a carbohydrate much loved, loathed, and possibly lost in translation. What is interesting about this week's Torah episode, Tzav, is that it shows us how matzah was not exclusively reserved for Passover. Rather, matzah was a sacred food associated with priestly privilege and with the boundaries of what is “kosher” or “holy” all year round.

Chapter Six in Leviticus describes the procedure of the “gift offering,” a donation of flour or grain handled by the sons of Aaron, the high priest. Verses Seven and Eight describe what they did with the leftovers:

“What is left of the offering shall be eaten by Aaron and his sons; it shall be eaten as unleavened cakes in the sacred precinct, they shall eat it in the enclosure of the tent of meeting… It shall not be baked with leaven."

The Hebrew word for “unleavened cakes” is “matzot,” translated elsewhere as “bread without yeast,” “unleavened bread,” “flat baked goods” or “holy things.” Basically, it refers to a type of bread that does not undergo the natural process of “rising.” Matzot appear throughout Leviticus – a familiar item for several other sacrificial procedures that have nothing to do with Passover. So how did it become the food that is most strongly associated with this holiday?

We know matzah from the story of the hurried escape from Egypt: it was the original fast food on the run. While this story may be true history or Judeo gastronomic mythology, it is also possible that the practice of eating this symbolic bread existed separately, as a way to honor life's sanctity and promote nutrition.

The priests had to eat the leftover matzot at a specific time and place, much like our modern obligation regarding Passover. Symbolic and still unleavened, this is one tough cracker that made it into history and rose to the top of the Jewish food list – yeast or no yeast. Ultimately, matzah became an icon of potential, of hopeful possibilities yet to come.

Bread Of Taste: Even if matzah is the bread of hope, make sure you fill up on bagels, cookies, and the like before Monday.It is the bread of hope.

This Passover, as you take your first bite of this biblical bread, we invite you to take your time, appreciate the sacredness of the moment, the amazing history of what you are about to ingest, and the transmitted half-baked mystery that helps keep some nights more exciting and special than all others.

Have a delicious and meaningful Passover!

Time to Make the Matzah: Calling all kids!I don't understand the deal with buying Shmura Matzah. I don't think it tastes very good, and it's really really expensive.

And I don't think I believe that we really have any idea what matzah looked like back when the children of Israel were fleeing their bondage at all. Is there actually somewhere in the Torah that tells us they made big round flat loaves? And if so, how did they transport them without breakage? Should shmura matzah really look like a pile of shmura crumbs at the bottom of a dirty cloth bag?

BUT!

Regardless of my preference for the cheap machine-made matzah... I'm a big believer in DIY, and I think it's really fun to MAKE MY OWN MATZAH!

As you well know if you've read Faithhacker much at all, I think that getting your hands dirty is almost always a good way to make traditions more meaningful. Maybe because I like to get messy, and maybe because I'm just cheap, but in any case...

You should give it a try. ESPECIALLY if you have kids around you can involve in the fun.

Of course, your matzah won't be kosher (unless you have rabbi friends willing to come oversee your dough-fest). But you can make it this weekend and enjoy it before the holiday starts... or feed it to the ducks, or whatev...

Take action: However whiny it seemsIt would seem that Bumblefuck is everywhere, even in the heart of a city that boasts a large Jewish community.

See, yesterday I went grocery shopping, to my huge American superstore.  And I bought most of my usual foods, but because Passover is just around the corner, I also went looking for matzah and matzah-related items. 

Please understand that I live in a not-so-Jewish neighborhood, a "transitional" in-town neighborhood (that's what realtors call it when you have a lot of litter floating around, and a bunch of stray dogs).  So I don't expect to find spelt-matzah-balls, or those potato-stick-thingies.  But I expected some half-assed attempt at a Passover display.

Nope.

There was nothing. Not even on the Jew-food island near the other "ethnic foods" like Old El Paso and Thai Kitchen.  Tucked away behind the ramen I found the usual array of year-round matzah, gelt, and borscht.  But there were NO Passover foods. Despite the abundance of sugar-free Easter candy (consumption of candy and type 2 diabetes are both more popular than Judaism it would seem).

I was PISSED!

Now, I know I can drive 15 minutes to the Kosher Kroger and get myself all the Passover goodies I need, but I was pissed anyway. Because there ARE Jews in my neighborhood. Plenty of them. Maybe not visibly Jewish people, or synagogues, but enough people to eat a few boxes of matzah.  And the fact that we don't have a huge amount of buying power doesn't mean that my store shouldn't at least give a little nod to us. Right?  I should be able to run to the store and pick up a box of matzah...

They stock all kinds of other crap they don't sell much of. I'm assuming.

So I called the store manager and (politely) freaked all over his ass.  I told him I write for the local press (I do) and that I work for a Jewish agency, and need to be able to buy things for catering purposes (I used to). I also said that this was the kind of incident that might cause me to take my $120 a week grocery list over to the competition.

He kindly explained...  that there just aren't enough Jewish shoppers to make Passover a priority.

I kindly explained right back... that the Jewish population in this area is growing, and that sending a message to that population... telling them their needs will be met... is a PR move, even if it means a loss of $20 in stale matzah a year.

He was profusely apologetic, and asked if I'd make a list for him, of all the things I need. And of other Jewish holidays I think they should consider stocking for.  He swore up and down that he'd get on top of this issue.  And I really believed him

The poor guy felt awful, I think.  He said that he'd been here for 3 years, and that nobody had ever complained until now.

!!!

This strikes me as nuts, since I have at least 5-10 Jewish friends who shop there each week, and they all buy  Passover foods.  So I can only assume that when they saw the store didn't have a Passover display, they resigned themself to a drive.  And that's just my friends... I wonder how many other Jews shop there and never said a word.

Which brings me to my point:

Stand up and be counted! If you find yourself NOT getting what you need as a Jewish person--  whether from your grocery store, your PBS station, your schools.  Let the world around you know that you are Jewish, and that Jews have needs.

It may seem petty and bitchy to request special foods for a small population, but this is how the world knows we exist. This is how we educate the population around us. This is how we grow.

The fact that you CAN drive a few miles to get what you need... the fact that your kid CAN make up the test after the High Holidays...

Doesn't mean we should HAVE to!

Just think... if we all went and pitched a fit at our local grocery store... they'd know how many of us there really are.

Looks like Manischewitz is closing up shop in Jersey City just in time for their busiest season. The good news is the company is relocating to their Newark base. The bad news is after reading this, I'm apathetic to the brand either way.

Pevzner said that in the last 20 years, as production has gotten increasingly automated, the factory payroll has declined to about 55 employees from more than 100.

Pevzner said he expects only about half of the current workers will move to Newark.

That will be difficult for some workers, including Russian Jews from Brooklyn who say the factory has provided more than just a living. One floor includes a small synagogue that hosts the occasional wedding, Pevzner said.

Marton Fromer, a Hungarian Jew who grew up in Russia, has spent 11 years at the company operating mixing kettles under the strict eye of mashgichim, the observant Jews designated to supervise kosher operations.

"To make matzo, it's a privilege for a Jew," he says.

"It's a ritual, it's holy."

But Fromer said that the move is trivial, as long as the matzo remains.

"The building is just bricks and the roof, like any building," he said.

"The matzo, it's the product that's important."

I guess the important thing is that the article ends on a positive note, even if the real life story doesn't quite pan out that way.