Dreaming of a heimishe kiddush

Every once in a while I actually remember my dreams, rarely do I have great ones, but this past Friday night I dreamed of kiddush. Not only did I dream of kiddush, I dreamed of the ideal yeshivish/hemishe/chassidish shteeble style kiddush that I have not had in many moons. Northern Californians don’t really do kiddush so well, sure they have great food and interesting stuff, but I miss the traditional sit down kiddush that is typical in frum communities.

I literally dreamed that in the middle of shul the kiddush crew started organizing the tables and chairs for kiddush, the few women who were in the tiny ezras nashim were not invited. The chazzan did not sing anim zemiros and there was no anti-lock brake prayers like adon olam or yigdal, shul literally ended and the folding narrow wooden tables were covered with white paper tablecloths covered in plastic.

From out of nowhere, bowls of chickpeas, 3 kinds of herring, cucumber salad, crackers and humus appeared. Bottles of mayim chayim seltzer and that yellow drink were dropped onto the tables, with some forks and paper plates. There were no little cups of grape juice handed out to make people feel like actually drinking that little amount of grape juice would fulfill their obligation of kiddush. Someone produced a bottle of scotch and some vodka, random people made quick al-ken abridged kiddush versions and random mezonoses were made by those who didn’t partake in the drinking.

No one waited, no one said “can you please pass this” and people reached over each other top grab food, people spoke with their mouths open about business, relatives and good deals on car leasing. People burped, drank and everyone was Republican and not afraid to do a little liberal bashing which is customary at kiddush.

Then the cholent, kishke and greasy potato kugel came out, everyone stacked their fishy soaked paper plates up and someone grabbed a big black garbage back. Then everybody grabbed kugel with their hands, broke off pieces of kishke with their own forks and picked through the cholent for the meat.

Then I woke up in San Jose and realized that kiddush that day would be crackers, humus, guacamole and not much else.

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