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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

Treyf, treyf, treyf, treyf

Treyf. Unkosher. Pork. Shrimp. Lobster.

The last 24 hours have been PORKAPALOOZA, my treyf festival before converting. I realize it is a little like having a bachelor party or final fling, but it is a final fling with food. More importantly, food I’ve never tried.

Yesterday was Lobster Bisque at La Strada. It was wonderful. Creamy, flavorful, a couple tiny shrimp in the bottom. My one complaint was the island of caviar in the middle, floating on a slice of bread. I tried it and almost spit it out, but I was at my review–so I had to swallow. Salty gross fireworks on my toungue. YUCK. But the bisque–oh my. Fantastic.

Today my friend Jill took me to the Pheonix in Chinatown for Dim Sum. Lots of pork and lots of shrimp. But cooked in preparations I’d never have and might never have again. Unless I keep New York Kosher–pork only at Chinese restaurants. Shrimp only at Chinese restaurants.

Jill reminded me, as Greg has reminded me and as Ronnie has reminded me, “You don’t have to keep kosher after you convert, you know that right?”

Yes, I know. But right now it means something to me. I’m not totally sure what–but it makes me notice my food before I shovel it down the hatch. It joins me to the traditions of judaism, links me quicker than learning Hebrew. It’s a TON easier to cut pork out of my diet than master the Hebrew alphabet.

But thank you to everyone for sending me into Jewish life with one last taste of treyf goodness.

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