There have been lots of weddings since Lag B'omer. Let's
peek into Frantic Frummy's kitchen and see what she's doing
about... blintzes?
"Hello, Yehudis. Quick! Arye is coming home in another half
hour. Could you tell me how to cook hard boiled eggs?"
Frummy was frantic. She was married exactly one week and
this was the first time she'd have to prepare breakfast on
her own. She didn't want her husband to think she was inept
in the kitchen.
Stifling a laugh, Yehudis explained that there were two
methods of cooking hard boiled eggs. Either you boil the
water first, then drop the eggs into the pot, shut the flame
and cover the pot. You let the eggs stand for ten minutes in
the hot water, then rinse them off in cold running water. Or
you put the eggs in the pot with water to cover, and boil
them for ten minutes.
"Thank you so much!" said a relieved Frummy. She decided to
try the second method today, it sounded so much simpler. She
took a pot, filled it with the eggs and water, and turned on
the flame.
Frummy glanced at the clock and made a mental note to turn
off the eggs ten minutes hence. Meanwhile, she went into the
bedroom to make the beds. She opened the window to air out
the room, as her mother always did. "Oh, my!" she suddenly
yelped. "Ten minutes are up!" She dashed into the kitchen,
turned off the flame and put the eggs under cold running
water.
She set the table with bread, butter, salt, a fancy napkin
and a cut-up tomato and some olives. "Looks nice to me," she
muttered.
A moment later, Arye was indeed home. "Good morning,
Frummy," he said jubiliantly. "The table is set so
attractively with so many colors," he commented
appreciatively.
A proud Frummy washed after her husand and both sat down for
the first private breakfast of their marriage.
"What kind of eggs are these? Hard or soft?"
"Hard boiled."
Arye tapped his egg gently against the plate to crack the
shell. When nothing happened, he banged the egg a little
harder. Before he knew it, the egg had run in all different
directions, except for the direction of the plate. It was a
raw egg that spread over the tablecloth.
Frummy blushed a deep red. "I'm s-sorry, Arye," she
stammered. "I called someone for instructions and she told
me to cook the eggs for ten minutes."
"Did you let the water boil for ten minutes, or was
the flame on for ten minutes?" Arye certainly seemed to have
more savvy for cooking.
"The flame was on for ten minutes," was the limp reply.
"Next time, make sure the eggs BOIL for ten minutes," Arye
advised kindly. "And don't worry, I'm sure you'll be a great
cook one day."
The next morning when Frummy was preparing eggs for
breakfast, she decided to try the other method. She got the
water to the boiling point and then she threw the eggs in.
She covered the pot and shut the flame. She dashed around
the kitchen, this time setting the table with sliced
cucumbers for variety, but even before Arye came home, she
sensed something was amiss. Peeking into the pot, she
discovered a mess of stringy whites and globs of yolks. She
barely contained her tears as she dialed Yehudis.
"Hi, this is Frummy. I tried both of your methods for hard
boiled eggs and flunked both tests." Yehudis commiserated
with her friend and explained that eggs have to be treated
gently.
*
That was six months ago. By now, Frummy already knew how to
boil hard and soft eggs and Arye had even taught her how to
make eggs scrambled and sunny- side up.
Now Frummy was gazing intently into the frying pan, trying
to dredge up a shred of inspiration. It was Chanuka and she
was frying latkes for supper. If she kept on staring at one
particular spot from a certain angle, she thought she could
make out Macabbees defeating the Greeks. That was a little
closer to inspiration than the latkes, which weren't coming
out the way they were supposed to. Instead of getting nice
neat pancakes, she found she had to scrape the pan real hard
to release bits and pieces of the frying mush.
Six months of marriage were doing her in. She still didn't
know how to cook proper meals yet. She relied heavily on
frozen prepared dinners. Frummy also felt that the spiritual
side of her was getting neglected, now that she was busy
with the nitty gritty physical aspects of daily life. She
was pining for a spiritual lift, to recapture the
breathtaking glory of a chumash class with
meforshim. To feel part of Klal Yisroel in
such a meaningful way. To belong to the past, yet be part of
the here and now.
That's how she had felt in school, hearing lecture after
lecture from distinguished teachers, and soaking up all that
knowledge. Now, all she was busy with was cooking, clothes
or soaking up oil from latkes with paper towels and pushing
then into a semblance of a circular shape. She felt so
unfulfilled. She knew -- she had been told time and again --
that this fulfillment she was craving for would have to come
from the home and its physical aspects. She thought of
herself as having gotten addicted to the spiritual high from
learning all the time, and now she was suffering from
withdrawal and suddenly, she felt herself woefully
unprepared for real life.
Frummy worked at computer programming outside the house and
the housework kept her more than busy. In fact, she hardly
had time to sweep the floor regularly. Just adjusting her
sheitel each morning took at least 15 minutes. She
was forever rushing about and never getting ahead. And yet,
she felt sorely lacking.
When Frummy mentioned this to Yehudis, she suggested having
a shiur with Arye every night.
"Hmmm. No, I don't think that's what I'm looking for. I feel
I've either missed the point of being a woman, or I never
got the point at all. I know women were created to take care
of the physical aspects of life, so that the men could take
care of the spiritual side of life, like learning and
teaching, and doing mitzvos. In school, I was a
success; I got top marks in limudei kodesh, but if
anyone graded me today in homemaking, I doubt if I would
pass..." Frummy sounded desperate.
"Why not enroll in the Eishes Chayil Academy [Ed. not a
specific school]?"
"There really is such a thing?"
"Yes. In Yerusholayim. They have all sorts of classes for
beginners, like sewing. Don't laugh, but they teach you how
to thread a needle and sew up a hem."
"Sounds good." She wouldn't laugh, painfully remembering
when Arye had asked her to redo a hem on one of his
trousers. Not wanting to disappoint him, she had taken it
over to a neighbor who took in sewing.
"They have baking classes, as well. They teach you how to
make a stiff snow and how to get a yeast dough to rise so
you can make perfect challos. They teach cleaning and
homemaking, together with the halochos that
apply."
A few days later found Frummy at the Eishes Chayil Academy
for the first day of class. The teacher asked each woman to
introduce herself and her profession. It turned out to be a
highly intellectual group, considering that the professions
ranged from registered nurses, homeopathic doctors, CPAs and
Special Ed. and high school teachers.
"We are finding that more and more women nowadays know very
little about home management. Too many girls from affluent
homes have never had more to do at the kitchen sink than
wash before meals. Parents focus the goals for their
children in the classroom and don't want to overburden them
with home skills."
Frummy went home that week feeling good about herself and
what she had learned. True, her first cake had flopped,
literally. The snow had caved in. But she'd do better next
week, she was sure. Learning womanly skills as a subject, an
art and science, with halocha and hashkofa
thrown in, she felt a connection with Jewish women
throughout the ages.
How ironic, she thought. Having spent the greater
part of my life till now learning like a man, I'm finally
learning how to be a woman!
