My Cheesecake Lesson

It was one of my greatest disappointments.

Well, as far as cheesecakes go.

My apartment was hosting a meal for the last day of Shavuos. I was thrilled. We sent the invitation out to about ten girls and everyone was signing up with something to bring. The list of salads, blintzes, quiches, fish and pasta grew daily.

Whenever my apartment hosts meals, I never really get to make anything (except for salads) because I work on Fridays and often don’t have the time. But since Erev Shavuos was on a Sunday, I was excited to announce my offer.

I wanted the honor of making everyone’s favorite Shavuos delight: the cheesecake.

Come Sunday, I was super-duper excited. I got a grand recipe (with yummy graham cracker pie crust) and was ready to go. We only needed one pie, but I insisted on making two, with the intention of bringing one to a friend.

So there I was in the kitchen, stirring the ingredients and (admittedly) tasting the batter with my fingers, all the while imagining the moment that I would present the pies and experience the joy of seeing everyone delightfully feast on my tasty creation.

I made sure to kosher our hardly-ever-used oven. The self-cleaner turned my already-boiling apartment into a sauna. But I would do anything for these cakes.

As they were baking, the entire house smelled like a cheesecake factory. Forget, Willy Wonka, this was the real thing; Mimi’s gift to the world. When I revealed them to the world, my babies looked gorgeous. Perfectly golden and smooth and…I believe they were glowing. I put them in the fridge for safekeeping. On Tuesday, we would all enjoy a taste of heaven.

Or so I thought.

I don’t remember how it happened. We were probably just talking about how excited we were for cheesecake when my roommate dropped the news that shattered my cheese-filled dreams.

“Wait, umm, I recently made meat in the oven."

But, I wasn’t worried. It was cool. Afterall, I totally cleaned and koshered it.

But it was complicated. We were concerned. The Rabbi was asked.

And the Rabbi answered.

Due to a piece of foil in the oven that was used when my roommate made chicken last week, my cheesecake was rendered unkosher.

We were on our way to our second-night meal when my my roommate told me the kosher diagnosis. There would be no cheesecake. I was silent at first. I needed to process. But what can you do? The cheesecakes just weren’t kosher.

I couldn’t believe I had made such a mistake. My poor cakes. My poor guests. I held back tears of disappointment and spoke with my equally let down roommate: “Rivky, this is so sad. I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.”

She was sympathetic, which helped me get through the trauma. But the next day, facing my guests wasn’t easy. I took a huge breathe and addressed my friends:

“Did you guys hear the news? There will be no cheesecake.”

Hungry gasps filled my living room.

“It’s not kosher.”

To make a not-so-long story even shorter, everyone got over it as quick as they could. Fortunately, there were enough delicious foods to get the disaster out of our heads.

Shavuos had to go on.

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Looking back, I can’t say that the whole cheesecake fiasco was all that pleasant. I was truly proud of my cakes and so looked forward to offering the Shavuos hallmark to our guests. And to just think that everything would have been fine had I been more careful…

I know it’s just food, but the disappointment was real.

At the same time, however, my cheesecake loss was really the ultimate Shavuos celebration.

On Shavuos, we reaccept the Torah again. We reassert our decision to fully embrace its heart, its lessons, and yes – its laws. My cheesecake experience was a unique chance to – despite myself - embrace the Torah I try to live and follow everyday. I know this all might sound rather cheesy, but I’m being honest when I say that the feeling was almost rejuvenating.

I can’t remember the last time I was forced to sever an emotional attachment because of a Torah law. Subtlety, we do it all the time - but this was on a different plane. There I was, after all the build-up, forced to confront what Torah had to say. The simple acknowledgment that G-d and his detailed laws are indeed my end-all guide is something so freeing. It was like proclaiming, “G-d, I do it for you. I don’t even want cheesecake if it’s not the way you like it. You’re the bottom line.”

I’m glad to say that this story has a happy – though certainly tasteless – ending. What I initially saw as an interruption to my Shavuos was really a sign that the Jewish people and Torah are very much alive. Yes, the attachment I had with my cheesecake offspring was momentous. But it was made insignificant by something that is even more mine: the Torah I received some three thousand years ago.

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[The Rebbe points out that the second day of Shavuos seems irrelevant because we counted the exact days leading up to it – surely there’s no confusion about which day to observe Yom Tov! We really should only have one day! But in his usual revealing and clarifying way, the Rebbe points out that the second day, then, is to acknowledge the Oral Law, everything that came after the giving of the torah – yes, the “second day.” So my cheesecake letdown is all the more relevant. It was a recognition of Torah, yes, but even more so the specific laws that keep the Torah alive today…the laws that say, “Mimi, we only eat kosher cheesecake.” :)]