Wedding Fever

In the next two weeks there are two weddings that I will be attending (Jenna and Sean, who are to the right, and Nelli and Uri, who are down below), and that has led me to do a lot of thinking about the institute of marriage – something that has nothing to do with weddings.

Let’s face it – when it comes to weddings, the overwhelming majority is serious political actions. Each person involved is trying to make a power play so they can have control over this or that. There is also a lot of spending involved, another display of who wants it more. On top of that, making sure that everything is ready on time, from the dresses to the chair coverings, is sometimes enough to put any military to shame. Despite this, there is a beginning – the engagement – and an end – when the final thank you notes are sent out and the photo albums are assembled.

But as two of my friends prepare to walk down the aisle a week apart from one another (with many more to come, both engaged and borderline engaged), I feel that I should say something about the institution of marriage. And yes, food will come into play.

When Ari and I were under the chuppah, we had finished taking two marriage classes and felt that we knew what we were in for. We had a lot of the talks we needed to have. And then the rabbi who married us told us that no matter what class we took, we could never really be fully prepared for what was in store for us.

Of course, this rabbi was wise, so he was right. Neither Ari nor I could anticipate the next three and a half years, filled with bouts of unemployment and insane money struggles. As someone once told me, “Couples have divorced for less than what you guys have gone through.”

Let’s face it: Marriage is one of the toughest things of all. You have to take the baggage you have collected over the years and combine it with the baggage your spouse brings in, making it all work. Preferences of who does what in the household, from cooking to doing laundry, have to be hammered out. Roles have to be taken. And sometimes, communication breaks down. At one point, Ari said to me, “We don’t speak the same language,” it hurt me. But then I told this to a brilliant woman by the name of Netta. And she said it in that matter-of-fact way she did with so many things: “Of course you don’t. He speaks man. You speak woman.”

I often think of my grandparents and wonder how they did it. Papu and Nony were married for 66 years, and somehow were loving and having sex into their 80s (I found the proof in the Viagra packages hidden behind the bar). How did they spend 66 years together, the majority of which was in poverty, without wanting to absolutely tear each other apart? How does love survive all those years together?

In addition to that, in a generation where a good portion of my friends watched their parents either split up or grow to hate each other, how do we even find the strength to commit to someone? How do we find the courage to stand under the chuppah, knowing we’re going to be waking up every day to this person? Marriage is supposed to be the answer, but it often leaves us with plenty of questions.

They are questions that my friends Jenna and Nelli probably aren’t as concerned about as they are walking down the aisle. They are ridiculously in love with Sean and Uri, respectively. They will be beautiful brides on their respective wedding days, as will my friends Lisa, Christina and Naz (by the way, their grooms are David, Paul and Boaz – didn’t want to shaft the gents on this one). We forget that the wedding, no matter how grand it is, is only for one day. It is beautiful and pristine and possibly perfect. Marriage is a wild ride, filled with twists and turns, and sometimes a little bit of nausea. But it is one that I hope all these brides and grooms with approach with dedication and love.

And for the record, I do the cooking while Ari does the laundry. Therefore, it’s only right that we do a wedding-themed recipe item. This dedicated to the two beautiful brides – Jenna Pinkham and Nelli Greenspan. Jenna, it’s actually inspired by your husband-to-be, who made me a delicious kosher paella for us in your old place. May you make this in your home for your husbands (or may they make it for you). Mazel tov!

KOSHER PAELLA

1 pound boneless skinless chicken, cut into 1-inch pieces

2 tablespoons paprika

1 tablespoon oregano

¾-1 pound spicy sausage, sliced into ½ inch pieces on a diagonal

2 tablespoons olive oil

4-5 garlic cloves, minced

1 large yellow onion, diced

4 tomatoes, diced

2 cups short-grain rice, preferably Aborrio

4-6 cups of chicken consommé

Large pinch of saffron

1 medium jar of hearts of palm, sliced

1 medium jar marinated artichoke hearts

½ cup frozen peas

1 red bell pepper, sliced

Salt and pepper

Rub the chicken with the paprika, oregano and salt and pepper to taste. Allow to sit for at least ½ hour. Use this time to chop.

Meanwhile, heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil over medium high heat in a large skillet – the bigger the better. Brown the sausage and chicken and set aside. Add remaining olive oil and sauté the garlic and onion. Add the tomatoes and allow to get soft.

Add the rice and toss for several minutes to toss in the oil. Add the consommé and saffron and allow to cook for 20 minutes, or until the rice is fully cooked. Add the hearts of palm, artichoke hearts and peas. Top with red bell pepper. Cover with foil and allow to sit for 10 minutes before serving.