It’s going to be a fun weekend for the Cantors!

It’s going to be a fun weekend for the Cantors! Elana arrives tonight from Israel. Tomorrow, our daughter Yael is opening up her own restaurant in downtown Richmond. It should be open to the public on Sunday, but tomorrow night is just for her closest friends and family. We are very proud of her and love how she is honoring her legacy as an American-Moroccan-Jewish-Israeli! That is quite an identity. Nearly a half million Israelis have Moroccan roots, and the older ones were born there, like my mother-in-law and her two sons (the two daughters, Elana and her sister, were born in Israel). The food Is inspired by both of Yael’s grandmothers, one with distinctly Eastern European Jewish cuisine and the other with Moroccan Sephardic fare. Growing up with a professional cook as a mother, I just assumed every kid ate gourmet food for dinner. It wasn’t until I ate out at a friend’s house and could barely cut the steak that I realized that my mom was special in the kitchen.

My mother making her famous brisket.

In Israel, every Moroccan mother is a gourmet chef. It’s in the genes. The minute people discover that my wife is Israeli Moroccan, they start talking about food. The best meal I ever had was from the hands of my mother-in-law. I just had two wisdom teeth taken out and was on Percocet. When I woke up, still woozy from the drugs, this amazing plate of Moroccan chicken over vegetables, soup and couscous was put in front of me. It might’ve been enhanced by the drugs, but there is no question that my mother-in-law is a Master Chef.

Danielle, my youngest daughter, in her book Spreads, has an essay about growing up Messianic Jewish American Moroccan (I know, it’s crazy that my daughter wrote a book!)

“But when we finally sat down for the sacred Sabbath meal they had prepared for all week, I was able to see structure. The prayers, the songs, the banquet — the chaos in it all was suddenly recognizable as order, allowing me to construct opinions of my own. I had created ways to automatically see anything Jewish that wasn’t bagels and brunch (from her American side), as lesser. I hid behind my American passport for fear of losing what had defined me until that point. 

“While braised brisket on the High Holy Days, Chinese takeout on Christmas Eve and a good bagel and schmear are all crucial parts of my identity and feed my appetite for belonging, it was spicy Moroccan fish, and steamed artichoke for dessert during Shabbat dinners in Ashkelon that bridged me with my roots.”

So Yael, inspired by both grandmothers is opening up “Susie’s” (my mother’s name). Sandwiches and salads are named after family members and when you enter, you are confronted with pictures of our family members from Europe, America, Israel, and Morocco.

So amid one of the most difficult years of all of our lives—dealing with war in Israel—there will be some joy.