The year the hamentashen came to Wazemmes

A while ago, way before I had other things to focus on, I wondered what was too much. I'm so over that now...well, at least my brain is incapable of processing that as an actual problem at the moment.

So getting back to something beyond metro-boulot-(children)-dodo (not necessarily in such an organized order), it is (was actually) Purim.
I always loved Purim when I was a kid. Dressing up, eating loads of cookies, making noise, being able to draw on my shoes. Kind of like a second Halloween but only for Jews.

Last year Purim was the same weekend as the Wazemmes carnival (aka mardi gras) so Suzanne and I made a lion mask (her choice) that Jerome improved on (read I made one out of a paper plate and then Jerome made one out of paper mache… but whatever, Suzanne still has bother of them). We made hamentashen filled with poppy seed filling from the Polish section at Carrefour (lots of Polish immigrants here in the North). This year, well, I missed Purim by a day with all the business of working and not sleeping.

But since tomorrow is Suzanne’s school's weekly bake sale, the kids will eat the first hammentaschen of their little lives. I’m not sure the kids would much appreciate poppy seeds, which I believe only little Jewish and Eastern European kids like. There will be dozens (literally) of raspberry filled treats for Suzanne’s school tomorrow – we’ll see how it goes, but they aren’t much different from those jam tarts I see lots of French kids eating and there's no frosting which French kids tend to reject. And maybe it’ll bring out some other closet Jews hiding out at the school.

Thanks for the recipe Mom!