| Two Cents |

Cook, Pray, Panic

By Michali Naiman and Chana Fishman | September 25, 2025

Unsolicited advice from people with no qualifications but many opinions

here’s nothing like the unique fulfillment that being creative in the kitchen gives. It’s rewarding and invigorating in its own unique way. Channeling artistic energy into this particular medium to create the perfect plate, table, and menu might just be our calling. Oh, right, and there are kids underfoot, too. Welcome to a month of Yom Tov, and more stressfully, all of the Erevs. It never gets easier; we just forget that we did this before, like childbirth.

Something Fishy

I listened to about 15 shiurim that told me to prioritize self-care and mental health this Erev Yom Tov season. My main takeaway was that to lighten my Yom Tov load I need to up my cleaning help hours and order some catered dishes for Yom Tov. I wasn’t the one that decided this; I heard it in a shiur! The issue is, I warmed up the chicken soup I ordered and served it for the first night’s seudah and… it appears to be (and by appears to be, I very much mean smells like) fish broth. How do I explain this to my husband? Incidentally, he thinks I cooked everything myself.

This happens more often than you’d think! Here’s our surefire solution to get rid of large quantities of less-than-stellar food that you feel too bad to throw out: Leave it out on the stove and go to bed, without giving instructions to anyone. Allow the soup to get left out overnight. Pick a fight about your husband never noticing what needs to be done in the house. He’ll never focus on the terrible takeout! (authors’ note: This is a joke. We do not condone bal tashchis or fighting with your husband.)

Label Lies

I have been filling my freezer methodically since Rosh Chodesh Av, knowing that every SINGLE year, Yom Tov season is also back-to-school season and I won’t have the headspace to deal with it. (BTW, askanim: Can we please fix this overlap?) I even bought a label maker this year to keep the inventory organized. Yom Tov morning I put a pan marked “brisket” into the oven before I went to shul, and when I came back expected to have a gorgeous roast to plate for the seudah. I realized that my label-happy kids made a mistake, and what we actually had was one 9×13 of hot, mushy carrot muffins, ready to serve. Now what??

Simple. Blame the system. The system should have taught them to label properly! The system should have taught them to pick a more helpful Erev YT job! This is the system’s fault, 100 percent. And as far as this meal goes, an extended CFD* course is gonna have to cut it.

Erev Antics

What is it about Erev Yom Tov that inspires my children to get into the absolute craziest trouble? In the past, here’s what they got into, in no particular order: Caught and dissected a frog; climbed onto the roof of my house via the upstairs window; ran barefoot on the sidewalk over cut glass; bit through their own lip in a trampoline accident… and that was all in one day. So when I look at this year’s calendar… you might see why I’m panicked. My kids are perfect angels every other day! What should we do?

Look at the bright side: This level of… neglect? — no, sorry, concentration — indicates that whatever you’re cooking must be well worth some scrapes and aches. You can always rope the ol’ spouse in to either cook or supervise. When all else fails, you can cheerfully threaten a Yom Tov program, which you can pay for with the punitive damages you receive from the trampoline company.

Seudah Shuffle

I invited two families this Succos: The Kleins for the first day lunch, and the Jacobses for second day lunch. When the Jacobses knocked on our door minutes after the Kleins had settled in, I realized someone got their wires crossed. I can’t check my texts on Yom Tov to assure myself it wasn’t me, so who can I blame?

We’ve already blamed the system here today, so let’s tackle this problem for real. Shepherd your guests into the succah and surreptitiously set some seats inside “for the kids” so everyone fits. It’s a two-flight distance, sure, but these are desperate times. Next, corral your kids into the kitchen and explain the concept of FHB*. Instruct them all to feign stomachaches for just this one meal if they hear you calling out those letters in the middle of the meal. You can always bank on at least one or two of the adults being on some sort of appetite suppressant either way, so you’re probably fine.

Present, Tense

My husband, since his chassan class days, is very makpid on getting me a Yom Tov gift, be it a new snood or a new diamond tennis necklace. The catch is, he wants ME to be the one buying it, to fulfill this mitzvah as his shaliach. Hello? It’s the busiest day of the year! Of course I forgot. Now what?

Run to a neighbor and borrow a piece of diamond jewelry (all neighbors are completely covered in diamonds these days, so you should have no trouble there) and pretend that you gifted yourself on the generous side this year. If eyebrows are raised, give the following ultimatum: Either the diamonds are fine, or he starts gifting things on his own. Or both. Win-win-win for you.