The Seder Night from Hell

The host of the Seder night was to be my father's best friend, Morry, caterer supreme. It was a happy day for Morry. He'd been at it for hours, preparing the table, sweeping the house for leaven (never mind the Passover ritual, he did it all year round).

Of course his wife, Dolly, did her bit. When not brandishing the whip and offering instructions, she was preparing the ritual foodstuffs. Matzahs from Tescos, chicken's neck (cheaper and more available than lamb) from Solly Goldblum the kosher butchers, horseradish sauce from Patel's Delicatessen and parsley from the local greengrocer. The haroseth she had to make herself and there was none better this side of Clayhall Avenue. The heady mixture of apple, nuts and wine was conjured up from a family recipe, supposedly originating from a tiny stetl in the Ukraine, when the ingredients were lovingly collected and reverently mixed in secret, hidden rooms, while outside, slavering Cossacks were indulging in their annual holy Easter crusade of rape and pillage. At 6pm that Thursday, the place was a dream, a veritable festival of food and drink. And the guests were beginning to arrive.

One of the first to arrive was Miriam. The invitation said 6pm for 6.30pm This meant that Morry and Dolly, being what they were, had everything ready by 4pm and the Jewish guests, being what Jewish guests usually did, arrived at 7pm. So, at 7.05pm, a slightly irritated (though not showing it, unless you counted the facial tic) Morry led his guests to the dining table. He sat at the head and I was at his right hand, being on call to whisper instructions to him when he (inevitably) got confused and mixed the whole thing up. Now you must give him his dues, although the whole ceremony was laid down in the manual, the haggadah, that everyone used, it was still possible for the whole thing to get skewed. The problem was that, if you were to follow it according to the book the whole ceremony would take 2-3 hours, which was not on.

For most of the people there the ceremony was just the starter course, an awkward justification for the whole thing and a distraction from the real purpose for the evening - the jawing and the eating, usually both at the same time. So a certain amount of skilful editing was needed, to bring the whole thing down to manageable proportions, keeping the flavour of the main highlights, while filtering out the long boring bits. Unfortunately, as if he was purposely fighting against the spirit and ethos suggested by the occasion (the word 'seder' actually means 'order'), Morry invariable got his long-johns in a twist and needed the odd nudge by his ever-present friend (me) to bring that elusive 'order' into play.

But there was another reason why Morry just had to get it right. This was the presence of his other golf partner, David, who always sat opposite him at the Seder table.

Dolly was called to the table from the kitchen to light the candles and say her blessing. 'Baruch atah adonai', she went. " ... Mumble, mumble, mumble", she continued, as her memory failed her. "Amen", she finished, as she removed the dishcloth from her head and returned to the kitchen, for the final touches on the feast to come.