Kashering Our Kitchen

Husband and I decided a while ago that when we moved into the Dallas/Plano area, we were going to Kasher our kitchen.  We have been moving toward a more observant lifestyle, so this fit our new way of thinking.  I don't think either of us knew exactly what this would entail.

After the sale of our house, when we moved into the apartment, we started only buying kosher packaged foods.  Upon moving into the house, it was all kosher all the time.  The Kashering Rabbi came to our house for a preliminary meeting.  He checked our pantry, fridge, and freezer.  In all of these places combined, he only found 5 items that were not Kosher.

Last week he came to the house to Kasher it.  Husband spent 5 hours with him preparing everything, cooking dishware, immersing dishes in boiling water, and getting things ready for the Utensil Mikveh.  I came home to wet towels all over the floor from kashering the counters and boxes upon boxes of dishes waiting to be toveled (dipped in utensil mikveh).

We took our last set (other than our good crystal that still has labels on them) to the Mikveh yesterday.  Our dishwasher has been running a ton of loads to wash the toveled dishes.  Since a Mikveh is fed from rain water, the dishes were quite dirty and needed to be re-cleaned.  We are still washing dishes and placing them in the cabinets labeled with "Meat", "Dairy", and "Parve" stickers, but there is an end in sight.  The best feeling was knowing that we cooked our entire Shabbat dinner and break the fast meal completely Kosher.  We used Kosher dishes, on the Kosher counters, with Kosher food.

Spoiled, From Birth to Now

I have been spoiled all of my life.  I was the only daughter sandwiched between two brothers, but that is not how I was spoiled.  I have known all of my life (or most of it) what I wanted to be when I grew up, but I wasn't spoiled that way either.  We were not rich, but I didn't NEED for anything, but I was not spoiled that way.  I could try anything and everything I wanted (drums, dance, soccer, etc.), but that too is not what I am talking about.  I am talking about cooking.

My mom and dad always made my meals growing up.  Once, my mom thought it would be a good life lesson to teach us all how to cook.  So, we were each assigned a night to cook dinner.  Let's just say that I only had to cook once, while my older brother found a passion.  No, I did not deliberately sabotage dinner (I think it was inedible), but I did not succeed.  My first two years in college, I had fabulous (and fattening) dorm cooking.  We ate at one dorm the most because their dining hall stayed open the latest.  It was all things fried! 

I lived in an off campus apartment and was TRULY spoiled by my roommate who made dinner for me almost every night (no really, she did!).  We shopped together and split the grocery bill, but I worked until 6 or so.  My roommate would have dinner ready for me when I walked in the door.  I tried to be thoughtful and call if I was working late.  (Thanks roomie!!!)

When I lived in my own apartment, I survived on boxed Mac and Cheese, Spaghetti, and sandwiches (and a LOT of fast food).  Who likes to cook for one?  There is a song about one being the loneliest number for a reason people!  When I married husband, I was blessed with someone who enjoyed cooking.  Okay, if he doesn't enjoy it, he doesn't dread it.  The kitchen is his space to do with and in as he pleases, just FEED me!

Well, I decided to take some baby steps into the world of cooking.  I need it to be safe and non-threatening as I am not familiar with this area of life at all.  So, I decided to pull out (and dust off) the old bread maker I got for my wedding.  I had only used prepackaged bread mixes before, so anything from scratch would be a step up.  I found a recipe online for pizza dough.  So, I made a batch last night.  I divided the batch into three evenly weighed balls (thanks husband!) and put them in the freezer.  Next, I might make sauce to go on the pizza.

Or, I can just buy a can.