Sherry Ansky will never forget the first time she tasted pickled herring. “I was nine years old, a skinny Jerusalem girl. One Shabbat, my father took me to the neighborhood synagogue. The women’s section was empty, and I sat there alone, somewhat bored. Someone said the kiddush blessing and brought a tray of pickled herring with toothpicks to the women’s section, since there was room there.
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