Then came the Shabbos I spent with a warm Moroccan family, where I realized I was insulting the couple by not trying their unique cholent
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I’ve never been a huge fan of cholent.
Somehow a meat-potato-bean mixture that sits all night long in a pot on a blech or in a crockpot on a counter holds little appeal even on a frigid Shabbos day.
For many years my aversion contended with politeness. When I spent my seminary year in Israel I politely turned down taste-testing cholent. And then came the Shabbos I spent with a warm Moroccan family where I realized I was insulting the couple by not trying their unique cholent. (I mean eggs were floating on the top…) They told me it was a little “hot ” but I took a spoonful and soon big huge tears were rolling down my cheeks. Yep it was hot all right — hot peppers H-O-T! My polite days were over — no more cholent for me!
Back in America I enjoyed Shabbos meals in many different homes — minus the cholent. One particular family the Cohens was especially kind to me and I became a bas bayis there. Mr. Cohen was known to make a delicious cholent but try as they did to convince me I just could not bring myself to taste it.
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