Reflections – Kosher Curry with a Shoehorn

Keeping kosher and Shabbat on the road is no small feat, but it’s led me to have special moments so amusing, irreverent, and occasionally inspiring that I look back on them with deep fondness.

For anyone religious or meticulous about kashrut, Shabbat, and other pillars of Halachic Judaism, embarking on a career—especially outside Israel—it can feel daunting. It’s not easy, but having done so, proudly wearing a kippa and adhering strictly across 20+ countries and half the U.S. states, I’ve found it to be a gift that keeps giving. It’s sparked unique connections, cherished memories, and, I hope, shown others a positive side of our faith—albeit sometimes in odd ways.

Nearly 30 years later, I’m not sure how it would work today, but as a consultant based in Sheffield, London, and later Tel Aviv, it shaped my life profoundly and left a number of unused kosher microwaves spread across the globe.

Since my PSP diagnosis at 49, I’ve been largely housebound on doctors’ orders. Many have asked if I’ll write a book, and while the idea tempts me, I love the spontaneity and immediacy of blogging and I am not sure I have the patience, time and sufficient content I’d interest for a book. It fits with the impulsiveness I have always had but that has been exasperated by the condition. I write because it is therapeutic and brings me positive memories, but I also believe these stories carry lessons for balancing Jewish life with professional demands.

Here, I share three of dozens of humorous moments, hoping they convey the wonder of keeping halacha in the strangest places. If you enjoy them, please share feedback—I’ve got more, including one about a trouser press turned grill! I genuinely have enough for a long book – but doubt anyone would read it.

Kosher Curry with a Shoehorn

One memorable moment came during a stint in Paris, where I spent 1-2 days weekly when my kids were young. From a kashrut perspective, it was a breeze: kosher meals on the Eurostar and countless kosher restaurants perfect for client dinners. One night, after a long day of meetings (and a separate incident where I electrocuted myself pulling a plug prong, landing me in hospital—lesson: never touch live wires!), I ordered a curry from Darjeeling, a favorite Indian spot from my honeymoon. The steaming dish arrived at my 5-star hotel in Paris’s 1st district, but to my dismay, there was no cutlery. Room service couldn’t help—likely baffled by the Englishman begging for a plastic spoon.

Eating with fingers wasn’t an option; the curry was hot and soupy. After rummaging, I found a shoehorn in the wardrobe. Kashering a shoehorn isn’t covered in any halachic text I know and I didn’t have time or means to dig it in the ground, wait 24 hours or boil it in water, but I deemed it pareve, gave it a good wash (I hope), and dug in.

The next morning, I shared the tale with colleagues and clients, who found it utterly absurd. It’s now a fond memory.

Lesson learned: Always request cutlery, avoid shoehorns, and maybe keep such stories to yourself. Remember as well that you need to follow Public Health and Safety rules which I clearly breached.

Two-Star Michelin Restaurant and the Sommelier

Another unforgettable moment unfolded at a two-star Michelin restaurant in London, where a partner hosted our team for a 8 course taster menu meal in a private room. I arranged a kosher meal from a trusted London caterer. My plates, hefty and plastic-wrapped, dwarfed the delicate 8-course portions my colleagues enjoyed, making me feel slightly out of place.

The real story, though, was the sommelier—a French wine expert who described each course’s pairing with poetic flair, like, “These grapes caught the first sunlight on the western ridge.” I’d ordered a kosher wine, not the finest (think “selected” and boiled, for those in the know). Curious, the sommelier asked to try it. Big mistake. After a sniff and a tiny sip, he exclaimed in his charming accent, “What is this s**t?” The room stunned initially quickly turned to laughter. I doubt I did the Israeli wine industry any favors, but it’s one of my funniest memories.

Lesson learned: Don’t bring budget kosher wine to a Michelin-starred restaurant.

A Dinner I’ll Never Forget

One of my closest work friends, a true foodie, joined me for a project in Halifax. Having lived in Sheffield, studied in Leeds and with in-laws in Manchester, I suggested dinner at a kosher restaurant in Manchester where I’d had wonderful family meals, including meeting my in-laws for the first time (and smearing chicken wings everywhere – also not recommended). I thought it was the perfect spot for dinner (and the only one for 200 miles).

We enjoyed what I thought was a great meal, but as we returned to the car, he was baffled. “How is it possible that we finished a three-course meal in 37 minutes?” he asked. To him, meals were leisurely affairs. He was also puzzled by the noisy atmosphere, people chatting between tables, the lack of wine with meals, and my order of Hot Ribena which he couldn’t believe was on a menu anywhere in the world—a sweet cordial I love but he associated with sick days. Despite our similar backgrounds, our dining experiences were worlds apart. Before making aliyah, my wife and I dined with him and his wife in London, but that Manchester meal remains unforgettable.

Lesson learned: Kosher dining can be a cultural shock—embrace the differences.

Reflections

These moments, born from my commitment to kashrut, are among my richest memories. They’ve taught me that faith, humor, and resilience can exist in even in the most unlikely places. Living with PSP has made these stories even more precious, reminding me how staying true to my beliefs brought joy and connection, alongside a fair amount of chocolate, pot noodles and smoked salmon. It’s absolutely possible to live a kosher, religious life while thriving professionally, and I hope these tales inspire others to find their own balance.

Wishing you all Shabbat Shalom. If these stories resonated, let me know—I’d love to share more!