Last Sunday was a busy, busy catering day — the kind that reminds me why I love what we do.
We started the morning with our third Israeli-style brunch, and each one continues to grow in such meaningful ways. Our next one will be Mother’s Day, and I’m already looking forward to it.
What has been most special about these brunches is not just the food — it’s the people. Each month we see new faces. Some guests tell us they haven’t stepped into the JCC, or even into a Jewish space, in years. Watching their excitement about being here, reconnecting with the community, and feeling welcomed again is incredibly moving.
Then there are the moments where people unexpectedly reconnect. Friends who haven’t seen each other in years suddenly realize they’re sitting in the same room. Tables turn into conversations, and conversations turn into new connections. Seeing that energy in the room is something really special.
I truly believe that creating opportunities for our extended community to connect is so important, and finding new ways to bring people together through food and shared space feels deeply meaningful.
After brunch, we moved on to preparing a meal of consolation for Hilda Geller, who lived at Chai Point and lived to the incredible age of 107. I’m sad I never had the chance to meet her myself, but after working with her daughter Janet, I have no doubt Hilda must have been a remarkable woman — because Janet certainly is.
Later that evening, Janet called to thank us. Moments like that stay with me. We always do our best, knowing we’re human and that catering days can be complicated. But when someone takes the time to call, text, email, or send a note of thanks, it truly means a lot.
I always make sure to share those moments with my staff as well. They deserve the credit for making everything happen, and I want them to feel the same nachas that I do when our work brings comfort or joy to others.
The day continued with a JNF event at the JCC, which was fascinating. The program focused on JNF’s work beyond the Jewish community, particularly on college campuses — building education, relationships, and connections with allies. It was inspiring to hear about that work, and we were happy to support the event.
By the end of the day, I had been working over 12 hours, moving staff from place to place, coordinating food going out, and making sure the logistics were running smoothly. When days like that come together successfully, I feel incredibly grateful.
Even in the middle of everything, I made sure to stop by the shiva meal to check in. As busy as catering days can be, connecting with the people we serve is always important to me.
But the weekend really started the day before.
On Shabbat, we had the honor of celebrating Bobby Miller’s 80th birthday at kiddush lunch at CBINT. I made sure to stop in to see her. Bobby was one of my lead volunteers during my years running the CBINT kitchen, and she was there as I learned what it meant to run a kitchen for the first time.
All the women I worked with in those years hold a special place in my heart:
Bobby Miller, Merry Atinsky ז״ל, Lorie Wertheimer, Lorraine Mitz ז״ל, and Judy Wolkenstein.
They were the backbone of that kitchen and part of my own learning journey. I’ll share more about those incredible women next week.
One especially meaningful memory involves Lorraine. For the first meal of consolation I ever catered, she requested a citrus Israeli couscous salad. While preparing for that event, I stumbled upon the recipe that has become our current couscous salad — and it has stayed in my recipe collection ever since.
When Lorraine herself later passed away, I sent that same salad for her meal of consolation as a gift, because it felt important for it to be there.
Years later, when catering her great-grandson’s bar mitzvah, his mother — Lorraine’s granddaughter — unknowingly requested that same couscous salad, remembering how much everyone loved it at her grandmother’s meal of consolation. When I shared the story with her, she teared up.
L’dor v’dor — from generation to generation.
Sometimes the dishes we serve carry memories far beyond the kitchen.
And that’s the real heart of what we do.
