Why This Night Was Different From All Other Nights

Barb and I spent the week before Passover ensconced in our kitchen. There were sweets to bake for Barb’s Wednesday book club, spicy gluten-free air-fried chicken to prep for my Friday night poker game, and a multi-course dinner to prepare for a Sunday night Seder with our extended family of 24.

Two briskets were baked and sliced (thank you, Sunset Foods), and a fancy Silver Spoon chicken recipe was followed to the letter. Cakes were baked, and a big pot of homemade chicken soup simmered lovingly for hours. Two batches of matzah balls were prepared—one large batch of fifty for 23 of our guests, and a smaller pot of gluten-free pseudo matzah balls just for me.

On Sunday evening, the second night of this year’s celebration, I led the Seder—the ritual retelling of the Jewish people’s escape from slavery in Egypt. My Seders are condensed, but I make sure to include all the essentials: the children asking the Four Questions, everyone dripping wine while reciting the Ten Plagues, and all our voices singing Dayenu, a song in praise of God. With guests ranging in age from 4 months to 94 years, I aim to keep everyone engaged.

When the Seder concluded, all eyes turned eagerly to Barb for Shulchan Orech—the festive meal.

Soon, the house filled with the comforting aroma of piping hot soup. Each bowl was brought to the table, brimming with golden broth and perfectly formed matzah balls, plump and glistening. Once everyone had been served, I grabbed a bowl and sat down to enjoy.

The first sip was heavenly—rich with chicken and root vegetables. I broke off a tiny piece of matzah ball, and my taste buds lit up. It was, without a doubt, the most delectable bite I’d had in years. Which could only mean one thing: I’d taken the wrong bowl. These matzah balls were definitely not gluten-free.

I quickly swapped my bowl for a fresh one and filled it with more chicken soup and matzah balls from the gluten-free pot. Then I braced myself for the usual GI fallout as a result of the one taste of regular matzah balls. But then—a Passover miracle! The symptoms were minor, and the rest of my week has passed by plaguelessly.

Dayenu!