The Washington Post’s party columnist reports on her first Shabbat dinner:
I knew enough not to wear red and green. I wore a black suit with a blue and black top and a dark blue scarf. My friend advised me to say "Shabbat shalom" as I entered, which I already had down. I was also told by another Jewish friend not to expect any wine. "Drink before you go," he advised.
The dinner turned out to be delightful. My hosts did everything to make me, the only non-Jew, feel at home and comfortable, explaining the rituals as they went along. There was plenty of delicious California kosher wine, red and white (the growing of the grapes had been overseen and blessed by a rabbi). The food was spectacular — the best matzoh-ball soup I ever ate. And the conversation was lively and spirited, to say the least: We debated whether this was a Christian nation!
The evening worked because both parties — the guest and the hosts — had done everything they could to make the other feel comfortable.
Yes, yes, we know: Kosher wine is not blessed by a rabbi. But she meant well. Read the full story.
