Best Matzo Balls Ever

The best matzo balls I've ever eaten are made by my grandmother, Nana Melonosky. They are light as cumulus clouds with a deep flavor and an "al dente" bite. On a recent visit to Brooklyn, I spent a few glorious hours in my Bubby's kitchen making the perfect bowl of Passover matzo ball soup.

Leaden versus fluffy? Nana has a strong opinion. She reminded me that a hard-centered matzo ball killed my Uncle Murray Mazer back in 1987. An autopsy revealed that a leaden matzo ball had become lodged in his colon, causing "blockage and such pain, you shouldn't know from." Carbon dating traced the ball back to April 1957. The dried parsley and club soda identified my Aunt Sheila as the most probable suspect.

I asked Nana if her secret was club soda.

"Uch! That farshimmelt idea wasn't new in the 50's. Drek mit leiber. Come tatelleh, let bubby show you how to make the best matzo balls ever."

So that you may serve your family a bowl full of love and deliciousness during the coming holidays, I have translated my Nana's pinches of this and handfuls of that into a recipe you can duplicate in your home.

Nana's Perfect Passover Matzo Balls

Preparation Time: 6 hours

2 cups all purpose flour
1 cup matzo meal
4 eggs separated, whites beaten to soft peaks
A shmear of chicken schmaltz (rendered chicken fat)
1/2 cup finely minced white onions (use a grater)
1/4 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1. In a large bowl combine all ingredients except the egg whites and onions.

2. Carefully fold in the egg whites.

3. In a large frying pan render down 1/2 pound bacon, preferably wood-smoked. Discard bacon. Cook the onions in the bacon fat until translucent. Add everything to the bowl and barely combine.

4. Refrigerate for 3 hours or overnight.

5. Fill your biggest pot with water and bring to boil. With wet hands, form the mixture into the size and shape of one of Natalie Portman's pert breasts. Put gently in the pot. Repeat. Cook for 45 minutes.

Serves: 6 hungry bulvans, 4 drowsy alta kockers, 3 gentiles, and 4 kvetching yentas with their "Uch, can I get a half a ball, bubbellah? They go straight to my hips and no carrots, they give me gas."

I was shocked when I saw Nana use the flour and the bacon. Nana explained, " The goyim know a thing or too about making dumplings so I borrowed some ideas. The flour lightens up the matzo balls. You add matzo meal to water, whatta you get? You get concrete! Good for making pyramids, not so good for fluffy matzo balls. And the bacon? What isn't better with bacon?"

I asked her about keeping Kosher, especially during Passover. Nana gave an argument worthy of a Talmudic scholar, "Everyone starts out being good but by the third day? Enough with this matzo already. If you're gonna cheat anyway, why ruin a perfectly good seder? As Rabbi Jose, the Gallilean said, "What they don't know, won't hurt them."

Given that this is my Jewiest post ever I'm providing my non-Jewish readers with a Yiddish glossary.

Bubby - grandma
Farshimmelt - confused, mixed up
Drek mit leiber - shit with liver
Tatelleh - little father, affectionate
Schmear - dollop
Shmaltz - in this instance, chicken fat
Alta kocker - literally, an old shit or old fart
Bulvan - man built like an ox
Kvetching - complaining
Yenta - gossipy female
Uch - oh my
Bubellah - sweatheart usually used for grandchildren
Goyim - gentiles
Leybikhe - lioness



A younger Nana Melonosky looking like the star of "The Leybikhes of Grossingers." No comments about her sexy feet, please.

Cell Phones in Bathrooms: A Question for Miss Manners

I just walked into the bathroom at work. It was empty except for a guy talking loudly on his cellphone. I bellied up to the urinal and began unzipping. The guy was talking business to a woman. The woman's voice was almost as loud as his. This was a formal business conversation. It was not his wife/girlfriend/co-worker/buddy.

I decided to relieve my bladder. He paused. He had heard me come in for sure but hadn't missed a syllable. Now that I was urinating, I sensed some hesitance but he started talking again. It was obvious that he was pretending to be in his office.

I let it flow.

For those of you who do not frequent public men's rooms, the shape of a urinal acts like the design of a fancy opera house. The sounds resonate clearly all the way to the back row. Business guy seemed flumoxed by the gushing sound of a water main break. His delivery got less smooth.

Still, he pressed on. I was thinking, "Close the deal, man." The needle on my bladder was approaching zero.

I shook off, tucked it away and zipped up. I grabbed the handle and paused. To flush or not to flush? I could have walked away quietly assuming that business guy would tidy up for me after he was done. I could have said, "Excuse me I'm about to flush maybe you want to cover up that phone."

I decided to flush.

What should I have done, Miss Manners?

Armless Man Feeds Giraffe his Foot

Another Post Courtesy of the Huffington Post - I kid Arianna Huffington when I see her in Pilates class but her site does supply an endless assortment of crap for my blog.

Tom Villis, an armless San Diego-based motivational speaker, was photographed feeding a giraffe his foot. When asked why he fed the giraffe his foot at the world famous San Diego Zoo, Tom replied, "What was I supposed to feed him? I've already fed him both my arms."

Tom's wife Meryl said that they were saving Tom's penis for dessert.

Actual Huffington Post story here.

Glory Days - Books I Writed Part 5

More books from the box in my mom's attic.

Torpedo to Ecstasy, 1995 -- Water nymphs need love too.

A Rouladen the Hay, 1998 -- Books with German puns were publishing gold in the late 1990's. This one had a fräulein that was kleiner in the hippsen and grossen in the tittsen. And Nazis.

She'd Kill for a Maxi-Pad, 2002 -- Ever come home from work with the milk, the take-out Chinese and a box of Light Days (for use with light flow during the first and last days of her period)? Don't.

Sarah Palin is a Cow in a School Uniform

in Finland.

If you go to the Finnish Google, and type "cow in a school uniform," you get a photo of Sarah Palin from my blog. Why?

And why are SO many people in Finland looking for a cow in a school uniform today? No one was looking yesterday. I'm thinking that it might be Dress Your Cow in a School Uniform Day in Finland -- which would be pretty cool.

Throwback Thursday - Old Skool Skateboarding

Me, gleaming the cube, on my ass.

Just Too Dumb for The New Yorker

I was sitting in my dentist's waiting room searching through the worn collection of stale magazines when I found this old New Yorker:

I rarely understand today's artsy-fartsy New Yorker covers but I'm a product of New York's public schools and the State's university system. I don't know how to pronounce Dowton Abbey and don't give a damn about a bunch of toothless British nuns. I started reading a New Yorker article once...

But this cover from 1939? I got some ideas. Clearly, these were simpler times.

Two guys leaving a bar.

Two seriously daper guys -- pocket hankies, bow tie, white suits and that is one limp-ass noodle of a wrist. Subtext aplenty. The dude with the beret has an erect finger and the dude without the beret looks like he's about to lower his lips right down on it, right down until those knuckles are bouncing on his chin.

Really, I'm not the kind of homophobe that sees gay stuff everywhere -- but then there's the name of the bar, Sloppy Dick's.

I think that might be code for "Alternate Lifestyles Tolerated." And this following depiction is outrageous, even by 1939 standards.

Yikes! There's nothing subtextual about that image. If my thing moved does it mean Rick Santorum and Jesus hate me?

However, just when you think you have the thing figured out, The New Yorker fucks with your head. Just another nice watercolor of two guys hooking up in a bar and heading off to the beach, until you notice this guy.


He looks pissed. Could that be Richard, the owner of the establishment, who happens to be a messy bartender?

I left the best for last.

It's been awhile since I've seen one of those depicted on the cover of a magazine. I'm talking about the blowgun.

Is this the gayest and most racist New Yorker cover ever or is there another explanation?

And yes, I noticed the cat. That cat is either very shocked or very aroused, or both. And so am I.