Treyf: My Quest for Identity in a Forbidden World

Washington Post columnist Altman (Poor Man’s Feast) writes about Jewish food and family in Queens, N.Y., and how the former, with its goulashes and kreplach, sustains and anchors her while the latter leaves her in a state of panic and bewilderment. Her decades-long struggle to regain the happiness and comfort she felt in her beloved maternal grandmother’s home is depicted lovingly, with many moments of heartbreak and disappointment but also joy and contentment. Her childhood and adolescence are rife with disapproval and contradictions, such as bacon breakfasts before Sunday visits to her Orthodox paternal grandparents. Her grandmother tries to feed her brains; her grandfather is a rage-filled cantor whose family perished in the Holocaust. There’s also tremendous conflict between Altman’s father, an adman who adores cooking and food, and her mother, an aspiring singer and actor who starves herself and is relegated to performing for neighbors. The preoccupation with treyf (something that’s prohibited and unkosher) is a constant, such as how her grandmother describes the women Altman’s father dated before marrying, and the Spam he cooks that her mother tosses, emphatically declaring, “We’re Jews.” Pork, shellfish, and everything forbidden are endlessly present in their conspicuous absence. There’s also unease for Altman as she keeps the secret that she’s attracted to women. When she’s in her 30s, she sheds an image that never belonged to her and marries a Catholic woman. Altman’s path to living authentically is hard won, but she demonstrates there’s reward to be found in the fight. (Sept.)