What is normally the largest communal meal in the calendar will be taken with whoever you are self-isolating with. For many, alone. This year, we’ll remember the ten plagues while enduring the eleventh.
It’s beyond surreal. We never do the huge groups many brag of, sharing pictures of their immaculate tables stretching endlessly into social media and boasting of the 20, 30 or more guests they will be sharing their Seder with.
In my 50 plus years I cannot remember ever doing a Seder for four. As a child, our houses were packed with cousins, grandparents, aunties and uncles and even friends of family. In more recent years the smallest group we celebrated with has been eight — sitting down with my parents and David’s at the very least.
So this will feel very strange. The plagues far more relevant, as the four of us splash wine on white napkins — if I can buy any online.
But we’re lucky. We are, at least, a group of four. We have my daughter to ask her questions and we can try to answer them.
I feel for those on their own. I imagine there will be some Zoom/Facetime/Whatsapp versions and maybe even a Houseparty Seder, but to do it alone could be the pinnacle of their current loneliness.
Cooking for smaller numbers will have many all of a tizz. That’s the easy part. Recipes are generally easily scaled down. Or cook the full quantity and freeze portions to take you through the rest of this confinement. And actually, if you are eating alone, what’s wrong with a simple salad? Or bowl of soup. The key part is the service itself and the items on your Seder plate. And even then, we are free to replace items on that plate that mean something to us.
My vegan Seder article talked about replacing the egg and the lamb shank. If you can’t get those this year, then why not use a pretend egg? Why not use a square of bittersweet chocolate to symbolise the bitter tears and sweetness of freedom? All bets are off this year and rules may need relaxing. We’ve enough to stress about avoiding the hidden enemy that is Coronavirus.
