Designer Yigal Azrouel in June.(Andrew H. Walker/Getty Images for Whitney Museum of American Ar)

The earlyness of Rosh Hashanah 2010/5771 (three weeks from yesterday!) is wreaking havoc on New York City Fashion Week, whose early-September iteration—at which designers debut spring collections (confusing, I know)—is overlapping with the holiday. Various Jewish “industry insiders” are planning to sit out a couple days in observance of the yontiff (London’s Fashion Week will face a similar Yom Kippur problem). Even one of the designers, Israeli Yigal Azrouel, has had to reschedule a show. “Because New York is such a Jewish center, people have come to assume that things will get planned around Jewish holidays in a way that they wouldn’t be elsewhere,” said Izzy Grinspan, of fashion Website Racked.

I would make a joke, but I can’t improve on Andrew Silow-Carroll’s. “Wait,” he wrote, “I thought Rosh Hashanah WAS a fashion show.”

(Ahron D. Weiner)

I spent Rosh Hashanah in Uman, a city of 90,000 in Ukraine, and there are at least three good reasons why I shouldn’t have. As a secular academic, specializing in Yiddish literature, what could it profit me to spend time with tens of thousands of ultra-Orthodox Jews, few of whom would understand the specifics of my interest in them and still fewer of whom would care? I am also a “modern” yet religious Jew, who would be expected to observe one of the holiest ceremonies of the year in a Conservative shul or “progressive” Orthodox minyan—with my own family—not packed away to the other end of the earth, under trying circumstances, participating in services untroubled by the role of women in religious law, the reconciliation of traditional biblical interpretation with more recent scholarship, or even the basics of modern Hebrew pronunciation. And most unfathomable of all, why am I, or any of the roughly 20,000 men, and perhaps 150 women, assembling in this Pale of Settlement city, reversing the fundamental imperative of Jewish modernity since the time of Abraham to go west?

We were in Uman at the request of Reb Nachman of Breslov, who lived from 1772 to 1810, and who bid his followers to spend Rosh Hashanah each year at his grave. Though the Hasidim who have claimed him as their spiritual leader were almost entirely obliterated in the Holocaust, the movement began reconstituting itself in the late 1960s, and with the fall of the Soviet Union 20 years ago, an increasing number of ultra-Orthodox Jews have made the trek here. For one weekend out of the year, Uman again becomes an enclave of Jewish observance, with a hotel, dozens of prayer sites—including the courtyards of apartment buildings, streets, and alleyways—and an open-air bazaar catering to the assembled pilgrims.

My guide through this perplexing adventure was my first cousin, Avraham Chaim Bloomenstiel, who at age 30 works as a Hasidic rabbi, Torah scribe, and business consultant in Dallas. Like me, Avi grew up in the tiny, vigorously assimilationist Jewish community of rural Louisiana. Along parallel lines, he and I have created radically different cultures for ourselves, signified in my case by the three-button black suit, only eight years out of fashion, that I wear at academic conferences and religious services, and in Avi’s case by the regalia that hasn’t gone out of style since the followers of the Baal Shem Tov created Hasidism in the 18th century. (more…)

Obama at a heath-care reform rally in Maryland yesterday.(Mark Wilson/Getty Images)

In addition to your mother and your grandmother and all your friends with “Yay, 5770!” Facebook status updates, you know who else wants to wish you a happy Rosh Hashanah? Barack Obama. A video greeting from President Barry was posted to the White House blog yesterday afternoon, and he opens with a very well-executed (and charmingly, Obamily cadenced) “L’shana tova tikatevu,” also tossing in a “may you be inscribed for blessings in the Book of Life” to “members of the Jewish faith here in America and around world.” He also gets a chance to tout one of his favorite judicial qualities, asking that we “reject the impulse to harden ourselves to others’ suffering, and let us instead make a habit of empathy.” The rest of it is about what you’d expect: Let us use this time of reflection and reconciliation for families, communities, and even nations to heal old divisions. Let us stand up to anti-Semitism. Let us extend freedom around the world. Let us work to achieve peace and security for Israel. (“That’s why my administration is actively pursuing the lasting peace that has eluding Israel and its neighbors for so long,” he explained.) He winds up by quoting Isaiah, that the Jews are “a light unto the nations,” and by calling Judaism “a great and ancient faith.” And finally: “Michelle and I wish all who celebrate Rosh Hashanah a healthy, peaceful, and sweet new year.” And a good yontif to you, too, Mr. President.

Warm Wishes for Rosh Hashanah [WhiteHouse.gov]

• A meeting between Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas, Israeli P.M. Benjamin Netanyahu, and President Obama at the U.N. General Assembly next week is extremely unlikely, as no one is willing to budge on anything. [Ynet]
• Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad called the Holocaust “a lie.” Again. [AP]
• Susan Rice, the American ambassador to the United Nations, has come out against the Goldstone report’s call for an independent investigation of the Gaza War in Israel amid “very serious concerns” about Goldstone’s authority. [WP]
• World War II veteran Max Fuchs recalls performing as cantor in a battlefield Sabbath service in 1944. [NYT]

Quinn makes makes a fishy martini (Marissa Brostoff)

Doug Quinn, a bartender at the Manhattan fixture P.J. Clarke’s, isn’t fazed by much. During a busy happy hour this week, we brought him a bag full of traditional Rosh Hashanah food items—apples, pomegranates, honey, dates, black-eyed peas, and, of course, a fish head—and asked him to work them into cocktails. We also brought some variations on those ingredients—apple cider, pomegranate juice, and sardines—to make things easier, but we needn’t have worried. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with that fish head, so I’ll just make a classic gin martini and rather than put olives in it, I’ll garnish with a fish head,” Quinn said. “For the adventurous.”

Pomegranate Martini

3 oz. citron vodka

1 oz. pomegranate juice

Seeds of half a pomegranate

The Fish Head Martini

Juice of half a lemon

1/2 oz. simple syrup

Garnish with lemon twist

Serve chilled straight up in martini glass.

Apple Cart

2-1/2 oz. cognac

1 oz. Cointreau

Juice of 2 lemons

Juice of 1 orange

1 oz. fresh apple cider

Shake well with ice and serve chilled in cocktail glass. Garnish with apple slice.

Rosh Hashanah Sangria (left) and Fishy Mary

Rosh Hashanah Sangria

1 bottle of red wine, Merlot recommended

4 oz. peach schnapps

2 apples, chopped

10 dates

Juice of 1 orange

Refrigerate overnight.

Pour in wine glass over ice, garnish with apple slice.

Fishy Mary

2 oz. vodka

4 oz. tomato juice

Dash of Tabasco sauce

Dash Worcestershire sauce

Dash of bitters

1 sardine

Shake well, pour into wine glass over ice. Add salt and pepper; garnish with wedge of lime and a lemon.

With weather changing, the school year getting underway, and Rosh Hashanah’s arrival, it’s a propitious moment for resolutions. Tablet Magazine asked several people for theirs.

Matisyahu, hip-hop artist

All are related to consciousness and health:

1. I would like to only put healthy things in my body. This includes eating more consciously, cooking my own food, and buying locally grown veggies, organic products, etc.

2. Exercise. I would like to have one consistent exercise. Not go crazy or anything, just simple stuff: ride a bike, take a hike, etc.

3. I would like to visit the Hasidic rebbes’ gravesites in Europe and spend time at each one, learning the teachings of that rebbe.

4. I would like to continue working on being present in whatever I am doing. To do things with truth, whole-heartedly.

Daphne Merkin, writer

To try in my personal habits to be more like Benjamin Franklin and less like Courtney Love. Early to bed and early to rise, that sort of thing. (Right now I stay up late, watching Iron Chef and Lock Up, when I should be reading Chekhov at the very least; and I get up near noon, by which time Christopher Hitchens has already produced 1,500 words on the issue of the day.)

To try and enjoy the little things; to stop looking for a blaze of light followed by a loud bang, or the transformative phone call, or the email that arrives out of the blue and will change everything. To be happy with my share instead of envying everyone who has a larger apartment. To appreciate that I am alive even though I’m not as thin or young or productive or, well, anything, as I had hoped to be.

To love where I am loved instead of pining after the unreachable or ungettable person (meaning man) without whom my life is incomplete. To accept that most couples are compromised arrangements at best and “the lion’s share of happiness,” to quote my beloved, never-married Philip Larkin, doesn’t necessarily belong to them. To remember that a woman without a man is like a woman without a man—pathetic in a noble sort of way.

To find some route back to the Jewishness I have cast off—not lightly, I might add—and for which I harbor great nostalgia. Not enough to make me actually seek out a shul that might suit me or to return to keeping separate kitchens in my apartment, but enough to hanker after Friday night invitations. To find some way of inserting it in my life in a meaningful fashion—whether it be taking a class or learning how to make gefilte fish from scratch.

Michael Showalter, comedian, star of Comedy Central’s Michael and Michael Have Issues

1. Improve backhand.

2. Learn to speak cat language.

3. Understand meaning of life.

4. No more ice cream every single night.

Naomi Alderman, author of Disobedience

I’m not generally big on New Year’s resolutions; I feel that being in therapy ought to cover my self-improvement needs for the year. Why improve yourself when you can outsource and have someone else do it for you?

However, as the festive season approaches I have been thinking that next year I really want to try to be more forgiving. It’s a very Christian-sounding resolution, I know. It’s not about “turning the other cheek,” though, but a more pragmatic approach: I’ve noticed that individuals who are unforgiving end up coming across as bitter and annoying. So for the sake of my soul or maybe just for the sake of appearances: more forgiveness this year.

Otherwise, there are just the constant ongoing resolutions of the battles one can never win. Answer email more promptly. Do not allow the washing up to sit around for several days. Go to the gym more often. Set a writing schedule and stick to it this time, goddammit—think of Trollope in his study, writing for three hours every morning from 5 a.m. to 8 a.m., and then going off to run the post office, be more like that. Get a post office, perhaps.

I once made a list of all the things I thought I should be doing on a daily basis and estimated how long each one would take. The total came to 28 hours a day, and didn’t include any time for sleep. Maybe I really need to learn to be more forgiving of myself.

Douglas Century, writer and author of Nextbook Press’s Barney Ross: The Life of a Jewish Fighter

I’d love to be able to explain basic biblical stories to my six-year-old daughter without having to look them up on Google. The other day, when I mentioned the story of Abraham (almost) sacrificing Isaac, she looked deeply troubled, and said, “I don’t understand—why would God tell Abraham to kill his own son?” I stammered something about how God was just testing Abraham, then found myself getting online and scrolling through website after website to read the various explanations for the Binding of Isaac. I realized I couldn’t remember the exact motives for Cain killing Abel, either. Or list more than a handful of Joseph’s brothers. Since my daughter is starting her religious education this year, it would be nice to relearn the stories that the 12-year-old me knew by heart.

I also use way too much profanity, especially driving. Since cursing under my breath at other aggressive drivers seems hardwired into my reptilian brain, and since I’m often driving with my daughter in her car seat behind me, I’m also constantly half-turning and apologizing for using bad language. “Daddy shouldn’t have said that, honey, you’re right.” It happens, too, when I’m on the phone. I’ve tried spelling out curse words, but Lena caught me at the first “S-H-I–.” So, I resolve to make every effort to clean up my act. Perhaps it’ll make me calmer and happier too.

Finally, I’m sure most people resolve to be more productive and focused each day. I need to go through a kind of social networking detox, or at least stop rationalizing hours wasted in the sinkholes of Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube by telling myself it’s time spent doing “research.”

Ayelet Waldman, writer and author of Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities and Occasional Moments of Grace

1. Pay more attention to my husband.

2. Not worry as much about my children’s futures.

3. Turn off my damn appliances to save energy.

Mimi Sheraton, former New York Times food critic and Tablet Magazine food columnist

1. I resolve never again to serve my Italian husband matzo balls marinara or noodle kugel—which he abhors as “sweet pasta.”

2. I resolve not to tell guests that my chopped chicken livers contain gribenes. Let them enjoy!

3. I resolve never again to grate potatoes for latkes in my Cuisinart. From now on, it’s a hand-held, four-sided grater or nothing.

4. I resolve to lose the last 10 pounds. Doesn’t everyone?

Chef Bill Telepan makes Shredded Brisket Pasta (Liel Leibovitz)

Brisket. It’s a Rosh Hashanah tradition, but it’s boring, the same old cumbersome cut of meat. Until, that is, we put it in the hands of Bill Telepan, the chef and owner of an eponymous Upper West Side restaurant and one of the nation’s most celebrated culinary masters. Married to a Jewish woman, and introduced by her to the Jewish festivals and their corresponding dishes, he has deconstructed the brisket: he cooked it, chopped it, and recreated it again, as a pasta sauce.

Here’s Telepan’s recipe for Shredded Brisket Pasta. It’s delicious. (more…)

(iStockphoto)

The High Holidays will be a little different this year for Lisa Fox, a 47-year-old travel agent and single mother of three in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. Because times are tough for her, instead of spending an extra $300 for a membership package that would include premium tickets to Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur services at her Conservative synagogue, she’ll sit behind the sanctuary in the social hall, as her regular membership entitles her to do. And because times are tough for Congregation Beth El, Fox didn’t receive two tickets in the mail—one for herself, one for her boyfriend—as she has in the past few years. This year she only received one. Upon inquiring, she was told that if her boyfriend wants to accompany her, he will need to present a letter vouching that he’s a member in good standing at his own synagogue in Philadelphia.

“You make accommodations for the economy,” said Fox, who added that several of her friends have dropped their synagogue memberships in the past year for financial reasons. “I think they’re being more strict but trying to be accommodating at the same time.”

It’s a double bind: many synagogue-goers—both the weekly and the annual variety—can’t afford the traditionally expensive tickets to services this year, while synagogues, which depend on the contributions of their members, are struggling to accommodate them. (more…)

Nuremberg Mahzor, 1331. Ink, tempera, and gold leaf on parchment. (Extended loan from Dr. David and Jemima Jeselsohn, Zurich. Courtesy of the Israel Museum, Jerusalem.)

Central to the Days of Awe in modern times is the experience of walking into the synagogue to find tall stacks of High Holiday prayer books, or mahzorim.

Things were not always thus. For centuries, Jewish prayer was an oral tradition, said from memory. Even as authoritative liturgies were codified, most didn’t have access to texts. Rather, manuscripts—by definition handwritten and unique—were created for communal use, with myriad variations according to local rites. Some of the wealthiest may have had smaller, private copies, but, for the most part, congregations either chanted prayers from memory or repeated after a cantor. Not until Gutenberg’s invention of the printing press in the early 1450s did books become accessible to a broader public, and for some time they remained a luxury.

But even within the unique realm of early prayer books, the Nuremberg Mahzor, which has just gone on public view for the first time in 52 years at the Israel Museum after a nearly year-long restoration, is exceptional. Completed in 1331 for the Jewish community of Nuremberg, the sumptuously decorated work is not only one of the most comprehensive illuminated Hebrew prayer books ever created, it is also among the largest medieval codices in the world. (more…)

Paster as Shapiro, a 1919 New Hampshire Jew, with her vegetables.(NYTimes.com)

Most of us see the world of historical reenactment—particularly in New England—as a fairly Jew-free zone; somehow we just don’t see our ancestors as having churned butter, at least not on these shores. But in New Hampshire, a “living museum” called Strawbery Banke celebrates the real heritage of its hometown, Puddle Dock, which had a sizable Russian-Jewish immigrant population in the early 20th century. Kosher cook Joan Nathan visited in preparation for Rosh Hashanah and found Barbara Ann Paster—in her role as Yiddish-speaking housewife Shiva Shapiro, a real woman who lived at the time—making honey cakes, stuffed cabbage, and kosher chicken on a coal stove.

Shapiro’s meal and preparation are as historically accurate as possible to the year she’s living in, 1919, which means a menu based on local ingredients supplemented with things like kale and parsnips, grown by immigrants who smuggled seeds into the country. Surprisingly, the meat wasn’t a problem, as the town boasted, Paster says, “two kosher butchers with delivery: Jacob Segal in a horse and buggy and Harry Liberson, who came here from an advertisement looking for a butcher in The Jewish Messenger out of New York and has stayed for 65 years.”

Shapiro’s great-niece Elaine Krasker, 82, a former Democratic state legislator, has donated most of her forebears’ property to the museum, but she also kept a few things: “I put the scrub board up on the wall in my laundry room,” she said, “to remind me how hard life was … and how much easier it is today.” If you want to be reminded of the same, now you know where to go. Or, of course, you can just count your blessing on the way to Whole Foods.

Rosh Hashana, Circa 1919 [NYT]