Egg Rolls and Egg Creams
Mara Zepeda, Reed College, Senior
The title lured me in–“The Kosher Egg Roll Festival.” Intrigued, my roommate and I trekked through New York Chinatown this past June, making our way past the vegetable stands and stepping over a live renegade eel that had slithered onto the sidewalk from the fresh fish market.
Finally we arrived at the site of the Kosher Egg Roll Festival, the historic Eldridge Street Synagogue, nestled on a street of Chinese restaurants and specialty shops in what was once the Jewish Lower East Side and is now part of New York’s thriving Chinatown. The block party, a celebration of Jewish and Chinese culture, was organized by the Eldridge Street Project, an organization that works to restore the synagogue and create educational programs about the neighborhood’s immigrant heritage.
The Eldridge Street Synagogue, an imposing building with stained-glass windows and a gold-leafed interior, is a designated National Historic Landmark. Erected in 1887, it was the first synagogue built by Eastern European Jews in America and served the Lower East Side’s once vibrant Jewish community. Over the past half century, however, the neighborhood’s Jewish population has decreased dramatically. In the 1950s, the synagogue’s main sanctuary was closed and, ever since, the shul’s Orthodox congregation has held services in the basement.
The Kosher Egg Roll Festival noted the many points of intersection between Chinese and Jews: their regard for language and music, their shared experience as immigrants in America, the Jewish presence in China, and of course, their mutual appreciation for the egg roll.
On the steps outside the synagogue, the Chinatown Senior Center Orchestra alternated sets with the Ray Musiker Klezmer Ensemble. There were mah-jongg games, paper cutting, and Chinese and Yiddish lessons. Inside the shul, an Israeli scribe wrote out my name in Hebrew and expounded on the virtues of the turkey quill, while Chinese calligraphers did their best to translate names like “Zack” into beautiful script on yellow construction paper as souvenirs.
The heart of the celebration took place in the basement of the synagogue. In this cozier space, we were handed egg creams and kosher egg rolls while the Chinatown Senior Center Orchestra took five in the pews, enjoying their snacks and listening to a young Yiddish vocalist warm up. Moments like this made the event memorable and touching.
For me, the most impressive part of the celebration was that each of the two cultures showcased its own nuances and uniqueness, while at the same time interacting with the other. The kosher egg roll itself is a symbol of this combination of evolution, assimilation, and tradition: a tasty Chinese-Americanized finger food and descendent of the spring roll that is adapted to the ancient Jewish laws of kashrut.
I found myself reflecting on the Jewish Eastern European and Chinese-American immigrant experiences as the entrance to the synagogue was opened to the street below, drawing in children, neighbors, immigrants, visitors, and congregants. The Eldridge Street Project’s Kosher Egg Roll Festival set a profound example of inventive community-building. And it provided me with the opportunity to taste my first egg cream.
Crossing Cultures
Angela Bretano, University of Central Florida, Graduate Student
I am proud of myself for having taken two unanticipated opportunities in my lifetime to learn about two unique cultures: Chinese and Jewish.
I converted to Orthodox Judaism from Catholicism in 1995. I became interested in Judaism at age 20, when a Jewish boyfriend, Doug, introduced me to his religion. Through my experiences with Doug and his family, I learned how close and loving a family could be.
Orthodox Judaism was a big part of Doug’s family’s life. Together he and I celebrated Shabbat and some of the Jewish holidays. At that time, I began to study Judaism and decided to complete an Orthodox Jewish conversion. I did so with a couple goals in mind.
First, I really wanted to learn and practice Judaism. I thought that by meeting the stringent requirements for an Orthodox conversion, I could best meet this goal My second goal was that I wanted other people to know that my intention to embrace another religion and culture was serious.
I not only studied the Jewish religion, but also studied Hebrew and the history of the Jewish people. I even obtained a minor in Judaic studies from my university. This process has definitely enriched my life. I am grateful to have taken such an opportunity to learn.
Several years after converting, however, I began questioning certain Orthodox Jewish practices. For example, I wondered if I really wanted to restrict myself to only eating kosher foods. I wasn’t sure if G-d really demanded adherence to laws governing details of daily life. I came to want a concrete explanation of these restrictions based on more than faith. I also wondered about the existence of G-d and what a G-d would want from us humans, if anything, beyond such values as kindness and respect for life.
At this point in my life, I have decided to put less emphasis on the ritual practices of Judaism. Despite my decision, Judaism and Jewish studies are still a part of my life. I continue to appreciate the emphasis on family and education that I saw in Doug’s family and that led me to Judaism in the first place.
I am now dating a Taiwanese student at my school and feel fortunate to have been presented with another opportunity to grow in my acceptance of people from a culture different than my own. What initially attracted me to my boyfriend, Sampan, was his appreciation of the importance of loved ones.
The fact that he is not Jewish and knew little about the religion did not dissuade me from getting to know and date him. If I were still practicing Orthodox Judaism, however, it would certainly have affected our relationship, since Orthodoxy is intertwined with one’s daily life.
The fact that Sampan and I have different cultural backgrounds has affected our relationship. For instance, I have a more individualistic perspective on how to conduct oneself in life, while Sampan’s view is more community-oriented. We both recognize our differences when we make decisions about our own behavior and how our actions will affect other people. We have both been called upon to take off our cultures’ glasses and see the world in a different light.
Sampan and I recently took a trip to his home country of Taiwan, also known as the Republic of China. Prior to our trip, I had never been to Asia. One thing in Taiwan that was very different from what I was accustomed to was the food. I am adventurous, particularly when it comes to food, and I was ready to try everything–kosher or not. During the trip, I sampled cow’s stomach, cow’s tongue, duck’s feet, fish (the whole fish!), green tea pancakes, pig’s knuckles, shark’s fin, and swallow’s nest soup. I just didn’t want to miss an opportunity to experience such uncommon delicacies.
From experiencing the different customs of Taiwan and of Jews, I have come to better realize the importance of being open-minded. I want to understand not only a person’s culture, but also how a person’s thoughts and actions relate to his or her culture.
Bonding over Chinese Food
Melanie palmer, University of Illinois at Urbana- Champign, Junior
It was Monday, December 25, 1995. Every year, my family ventures out to visit the one restaurant in Glenwood, Illinois that is open on Christmas, the Dragon Inn. As we pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot that day, however, we noticed that there wasn’t a single car in the lot. “Are we the only Jewish family here tonight?” we all thought to ourselves.
That year, it turned out,
the Dragon Inn was closed on Christmas–not because it was Christmas, but because it was Monday. The Dragon Inn is always closed on Monday, but I guess we all forgot.
Jewish people take Chinese food for granted. Whenever I’m in a room with Jewish people and we’re trying to figure out where to go eat, Chinese food is always an option, and most of the time it’s the most popular option. I personally am not the biggest fan of Chinese food, but in order to avoid conflict I’ll go along with the decision to eat Chinese food.
In any case, eating Chinese is not about the food, it’s more about being with the people with whom you’re eating. Eating Chinese food is about sharing an experience. When people order Chinese food, they tend to split all the dishes. People are constantly passing food back and forth, touching one another and making eye contact. Eating Chinese food brings people together.
The most important part of eating Chinese food is the fortune cookie. After dinner, there is the ritual: picking the right fortune cookie, carefully opening the wrapper so the cookie doesn’t break, and ceremoniously breaking the fortune cookie apart. Everyone waits in anticipation for the exciting climax, the reading of the fortune. Once it is read, the excitement dies down, but the connection and community between Jewish people remain intact.
Jews Seen in a Different Light
Sara Cherlin, University of California at Berkeley ’00
The cab inched slowly through the traffic along the outskirts of Beijing’s old city. Smog clouded the visibility more than a kilometer ahead. Bicycles and carts weaved in and around the cars, bells ringing.
The cab driver dragged heavily on his cigarette and then smiled, exhibiting teeth decayed by too many years of smoking and a serious lack of proper dental hygiene. He, like the rest of the cab drivers I encountered in the year I studied Chinese at Peking University in Beijing, was intrigued by his foreign passengers, especially those of us who made an attempt to converse in Mandarin.
The cab driver asked me the typical questions: Where was I from? What did I study? How old was I? How old were my parents? How much money did they make? Everything was up for discussion. And most of my answers were made up. After a hundred conversations with different cab drivers about the same topics, I tried to be creative to keep the conversations interesting.
But there was one question I never failed to answer truthfully, because the reaction I’d always receive never failed to amaze me:
“What’s your ethnicity?”
“I’m Jewish.”
“Ah…Jewish people are very intelligent! Like Chinese people. Jewish people and Chinese people are very smart.”
“Not all Jewish people are smart,” I responded, in an attempt to challenge this extreme generalization that many Chinese people seem to hold.
“Einstein, Freud…” he continued to list off the names of famous Jewish thinkers.
It is a little-known fact that Chinese people hold Jews in high esteem. It was especially surprising to me as an American Jew who has grown up learning about the devastation of the Holocaust, of anti-Semitism, of the never-ending war in Israel between the Arabs and the Jews. After 21 years of learning that Jews have always been a disliked minority, I was finally confronted with a society that adored the Jews.
Instead of feeling threatened by the supposed intellectual prowess and business acumen of Jews, the Chinese praise Jewish prosperity and achievements. And despite my loathing of this sort of stereotypical thinking, I could not help but be mildly pleased. I never felt that slight hesitation or apprehension I have felt in other strange places to say, “I’m a Jew.”
Confessions of a Chinese Roommate
Priscilla Hung, University of California at Berkeley ’99
I always imagined college would be the place where I would meet other people like me, a place where I could strengthen my identity. In southern Orange County, California, where I grew up, there’s not many Chinese feminists hanging around. Where I lived it’s mainly white Protestant surfers, but not a lot of people like me.
When I left for college in the San Francisco Bay Area, I was pretty happy because there are significantly more Chinese feminists there. (Anything more than five equals “significantly more.”) But what I didn’t expect when I went to college was how much my identity would grow–and the last thing I expected was that it would grow because of my Jewish roommate.
Our first day in our dorm room together, we were already having to work out our ethnicities. According to feng shui, Chinese principles of energy flow, my bed shouldn’t be the first thing you see upon opening the door. According to Jewish tradition, her bed shouldn’t face the door. Since our room was so tiny there was only one particular way that we could arrange the furniture so both Chinese and Jewish beliefs could be honored.
In many ways we’re both mostly American and identify ourselves that way, but there are times our ethnicities stand out. I had never heard the word “Seder” until I found myself eating charoset and gefilte fish with her (two more words I had never heard before), celebrating Jewish freedom from slavery in Egypt. And she celebrated the Chinese Mid-Autumn Moon Festival with me, eating mooncakes of sweet bean paste, symbolizing when the Chinese threw off their Mongolian oppressors in the 1300s.
While there were some cultural differences between us, we both adapted our lifestyles to each other pretty well. Living together really proved how culture is dynamic and fluid. We celebrated my first Hanukkah together, and I’m sure her father didn’t think it ironic at all to send us chopsticks as one of our gifts.
I found that the cultures are different, but the underlying themes of tradition, family, determination, food, and celebration are the same. Aside from watching Seinfeld or singing dreidel songs in grade school, I didn’t know anything about Jewish culture, but living with my roommate was eye-opening and really rewarding. And I bet I’m one of the few Chinese people who know the Hanukkah prayer!
