Tweaking the Shavuoth Custom of Eating Dairy
Dairy is not my thing, so of all the holidays and festivals that are celebrated throughout the year, from a culinary perspective, Shavuoth is not one that I eagerly look forward to. Not that there’s anything wrong with baked ziti or mushroom linguini mind you, and pretending to enjoy such dishes is a lot easier than turning the house upside down in search of cookie crumbs that Pesach requires or worrying that a cat might jump onto the cot I laughably call a bed during the seven nights of Sukkot. Still, you would not hear me utter a word of complaint if some reputable and influential rabbi ruled that the holiday should be celebrated with crispy fried chicken or a savory beef stew.
As we all know, the period beginning with the first day of Chol HaMoed Pesach and leading up the eve of Shavuoth involves ongoing counting – the days, the weeks, and both. What is often overlooked, though, is that Shavuoth itself involves counting as well – calories. The holiday is hardly a dieter’s delight or weight watcher’s wonderland. I can just imagine the number of calories contained in a mere smidgen let alone slice of someone’s delicious sounding Peanut Butter Ice Cream Pie.
Not that there was much concern over calories or cholesterol levels in my own family. I’m not even sure we were aware of such things then. My mother, for example, loved sour milk and was delighted that she could enjoy milchig dishes as part of a holiday meal. My father found it novel to shmear butter or cream cheese on a slice of challah rather than on a bagel or bialy. And my grandfather, well, Shavuoth was the only time of the year that bubby permitted him to eat roasted garlic with his beloved warmed up Limburger cheese – a semi-soft, surface-ripened cheese known for its strong, pungent aroma and flavor – in the presence of others. Take my word for it, eating with a handkerchief wrapped around your nose is far from simple.
I’ve never found the varying reasons for eating dairy on Shavuoth to be particularly convincing , but the one which I believe makes the most sense focuses on the fact that the newly introduced Torah involved complex laws pertaining to kashruth. Simple fare was therefore required until the learned leaders and spiritual mentors got things sorted out. In recognition of that period of confusion, we, the descendants of those who spent forty years journeying to the land of Israel, emulate their patience and readiness to adopt a new way of life. What has always troubled me, however, is that the dairy delights we enjoy today (and have, for quite a while) bear absolutely no resemblance to what was consumed on that evening when the commandments of the Torah were received and accepted and the consumption of meat was temporarily put on hold.
Consider, for example, matzoh. By specific intent, the matzoh we currently eat during the week of Pesach is, more or less, what the freed Hebrew slaves took with them when they departed Egypt and crossed over the dry land of the divided Red Sea. G-d wanted to ensure that later generations would not forget His benevolence, so once a year we are commanded to “enjoy” what our wandering ancestors made do with. The consumption of unleavened bread, the core requirement of the Pesach seder, is what binds us to the past, and for that reason it is stringently prepared and jealously guarded from the possibility of contamination.
I’m not unaware, of course, that unlike matzah on Pesach, eating dairy products on Shavuoth is a custom and not an absolute commandment. I am also aware that in most households, one or more of the holiday meals (two in Israel, four in the diaspora) features dairy while the others feature meat. Nonetheless, customs are by no means meaningless or trivial, and what we consume even for one dairy meal should, I would think, bind us to the past as does matzoh. And here is where I have a problem; I think it’s fair to say that Moshe and his followers did not partake of cherry cheese blintzes or vegetable quiches.
Trouble is, references to dairy products in the bible are rather scant. Abraham, we know, offered his three visitors, along with other treats, butter, and milk. The milk and milk byproducts of goats and sheep were likely consumed regularly, and quickly since there was no real refrigeration available. And, of course, both curds and buttermilk were most likely staples and regular features on the menu during antiquity. And it goes without saying, of course, that there were no Graham crackers, whipping cream, or instant pudding mixes close by.
I’m not suggesting that we should turn our backs on the dairy-based delicacies that are traditionally enjoyed on the holiday, but the festive table should include something as a reminder of why we are dining on three-cheese lasagna or cream-laden fettuccine in the first place. Complementing those rich offerings might be, for example, a bowl of curdled pot cheese, a slab of crumbly farmer cheese, a glass of thick buttermilk, or a tart cheese spread made from the milk of sheep or goats.
Dairy, as I said earlier, is not my thing, but I try to be faithful to the customs that define who we are as a people. So yes, I’ll go through the motions and nibble on whatever cheesy or creamy concoction is set before me. This year, though, I’ll insist that we take that extra step and make the custom indeed meaningful. And keep reminding myself that once I get through the foul-tasting curds and unsavory goat cheese, marbleized cheesecake and chocolate-chocolate chip ice cream will soon follow. As will, the next day, roast chicken and potato kugel.
Chag sameach.
