Unless you're a chicken, I know of no more comforting sight than a steaming pot full of matzoh ball soup. It looks a lot better than the inside of the I-93 tunnel in Boston, where I just ran out of gas after an extra trafficky jaunt from Westchester to Boston. Luckily, I know the soup will be even better than it was last night when it was fresh, thanks to that most magic of soup ingredients: sitting overnight.
If you tried her Jewish cooking, you'd never know that my dear second cousin Nina was born a Christian Texan. Just look at this chopped liver, fried in schmaltz.
Or these perfect, extra-crunchy-under-the-chocolate macaroons.
The charosets was great this year, too. She did the dirty work, and at the end I put half of it into the food processor for that realistic mortar consistency. The zest of two lemons and a Manischewitz reduction gave it a little zip, which also helped soften the blow of the annual raw maror-off my cousin Adam and I have going. 
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