The real thing

(As opposed to the chocolate matzoh pictured last week)
When I went to pick up my newly soled and beautifully polished boots from Yakub, my terrific shoe-repair guy, he asked if I was going to celebrate Passover. (No doubt Yakub, a Russian Jew, could recognize my Russian-Jewish ancestry in my face.) Smiling and shaking my head, I said, “No, I’m Jewish but I’m not religious.” He shrugged, and handed over this package of blessed-for-Passover matzoh anyway, warning me not to eat them until after dark. I guess he still has hopes of introducing me to the proper rituals and weaning me from my secular ways. Or else he was just being kind