I messaged my sister to ask her if she could get me a pound of schmaltz. I said I looked everywhere except the black market. A few facts first. I live in rural Illinois farm country, and the only kind of market you're likely to find out here is a farmers' market. Second, my sister lives in a north Chicago suburb, where schmaltz is easy to get your hands on - so to speak. Third, for those of you who don't know what in the world I'm talking about, schmaltz is rendered chicken fat, long prized by Jewish grandmothers in the making of matzoh balls.
But then the thought hit me, I bet the words "black market" set off a red flag somewhere at NSA Headquarters.
I could picture some guy leaning back in his chair and calling out, "Hey, I got some guy here trying to move a pound of something called 'schmaltz.' Anyone ever hear that one before?"
There's silence all around the room till some guy in the back with a long hooked nose and an intelligent forehead stands up and says, "Well, 'schmaltz' is the Yiddish word for chicken fat. It's used in traditional recipes. When it's refrigerated, it becomes opaque and gelatinous. Not unlike plastic explosives. A pound could do a lot of damage."
Ya, and it could also make one hell of a soup.
No comments:
Post a Comment