She offers her hand for the angels to hold
This morning, my mother made chicken soup from the remains of the chickens roasted with rosemary for my father's birthday. This evening, we made knaidlach from the remains of the matzah we have been eating all week. This is so traditional, it should come as no surprise I bought an illustrated retelling of Ansky's The Dybbuk this afternoon from Curious George & Friends.
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I'm flattered!
And knaidlach, which I had to Google pictures of to see what they were.
I think properly transcribed from the Yiddish they are kneydlach, but this is the spelling that got into my brain sometime in grad school . . . By whatever orthography, they are very tasty.
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It's cold here tonight, so take advantage of the soup-making weather. The weekend is supposed to be, you know, springlike.
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It did.