The table is the source of blessing. On Shabbat, we approach the table with reverense, reminded of the sacred altar that it represents. With our prayers, our songs, and our stories, the ingathering of the exiles that occurs at meal times is a means of accessing our shared heritage and insuring the future of our own individual families.
Regardless of which part of the Sephardic world you come from, food conjures recollections of glorious times spent with Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles, that are all too often relegated to the cobweb laced attic of our distant memories. An aromatic scent, a luscious texture, something as simple as the hint of mint in a cup of tea. It matters not. Instantly we are drawn to the small spaces of our youth. The intimacy and love of those spaces and those moments has more to do with who we are than we may ever know.
Journey with me and together we may build new memories. Those that we share with our own children. Perhaps, with a measure of blessing, when our grandchildren gather their own young ones around the table for something warm and wonderful, they will be reminded of the moments they shared with us. They will share with their children what we share today.
B'teavon
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