Mad Dash for Nosh

Home Brooklyn Life Mad Dash for Nosh

by Michael Keller

You’ve never seen so many hands reaching for matzo balls. And then there’s the Kugel: Broccoli Kugel, Butternut squash Kugel, Spinach Kugel, Sweet Noodle Kugel, Apple Cherry Kugel, Apple Blueberry Kugel, Champagne Grape Kugel and Salt and Pepper Kugel for the purist, all packed in neat plastic containers, their names properly visible.

Pomegranate is a warehouse shaped kosher supermarket in Midwood where Yiddish banter is heard instead of easy listening and Mechy, the deli chief, warmly grabs friends by the arm to say hello. Men in yarmulkes and sidelocks carry walkie-talkies and coordinate the stock. They travel from the deli to produce to canned goods – their look of urgency underscoring that it is serious business. Stock is flush but it is not expected to last long.
Thursday was the day before Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, and since shopping – and eating – is forbidden from sunset Friday until sunset on Saturday preparations for the pre-fast and break fast meals must be made now. Eighteen-hour days for the delivery crew during the High Holidays are not unusual. Outside is a loading dock with a forklift and crates. Inside, women in long skirts and men in black hats hurry to shop, and prepare.

Some carry lists and shop with brisk efficiency – two yellow peppers, one red pepper, a bag of string beans, six onions, celery and carrots. Others proceed as if without particular meals in mind — two tubs of cream cheese, grape juice economy pack, vegetable oil, Pita Bites, imitation salami, and Weight Watchers Carrot Crème Cake – “just drinks and nosh y’know?” the woman with the cart says.

A man in sidelocks and a black hat silently debates the merits of two types of honey mustard; he picks the one labeled “Three Peppers.”  Teenage girls inquire what happens to leftover sushi – eyeing the Meshuga Roll — and suggest that the market give it to them; they go the deli counter and ask about samples. People on line at the deli counter relay messages from spouses, “He says don’t make the pastrami slices too thick.” Others get lost in conversation and lose their place in line. A woman accelerates too quickly around a corner and almost collides with another shopper as she passes the cantaloupes and banana stands.

At 2:15 pm things are heating up.  A shopper knocks a cherry cheese Danish off a shelf. The day is just beginning. Closing time is not until 1 o’clock in the morning.

The fast begins tonight, at 6:45 p,m., precisely.

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