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this story is by
Hedai Offaim
There is a great sense of security and comfort in a holiday menu that is repeated every year. The fish, the soup, the roast meat and the compote herald the fact that another year has passed, and we have survived after all, in spite of everything. There is something sacred about preserving the old recipes the family brought along from Poland or Algeria, something modest in the realization that not everything has...
