Although my last food journey as a Paleo was difficult, it was very rewarding as I learned much about the differences between our diets and ancestors’ diets. The one entity the Paleo diet lacked, however, was a religious backbone. When I was offered the opportunity to embark on a new venture, I was excited to explore the practice of eating kosher-style. While keeping my Lenten promise of avoiding sweets, I decided to dabble with the some Jewish food rules. I find it very interesting that we often regard food as an enemy—avoiding sweets during the season of Lent and never mixing dairy with meat when following the rules of kashrut—but why do we partake in such food rules? Perhaps, we abide by these rules so that we remain in good standings with God or maybe because we want to attain salvation. Throughout my kosher-style expedition, I searched for an answer and turned to several notable texts for insight. According to the rules of kashrut, there are several impermissible food combinations. Kashrut forbids one from cooking or eating meat and dairy products together. Furthermore, some Jews wait one to three, or sometimes six hours after eating meat before eating dairy again. Similar customs impose waiting periods for eating meat after one has consumed dairy; however, these periods are typically shorter in length (Sigman). The laws of kashrut extend so far that food must: (1) come from a proper source (no shellfish or pork), (2) be prepared in a specific manner and (3) not be combined inappropriately with other food—no combing dairy and meat (Rich). The public, including myself, is much more aware of the first and third laws (no pork, no cheeseburgers, etc.). Interestingly enough, the second rule is the most prohibitive, as it effects the utensils and kitchen equipment of many Orthodox Jews. Fortunately, I kept kosher-style for three days and not fully kosher because I still struggled with these rules.
In a similar vein, Elizabeth Ehrlich, author of Miriam’s Kitchen, struggled to fully grasp the food rules of Judaism since she was not raised in a particularly Jewish household. Ehrlich was a smart yet skeptical, secular Jew, who, as she matured, found interest in kashrut—the dietary laws of Judaism. Her mother-in-law, Miriam, inspired her to understand the significance of keeping a kosher kitchen. Through the practice of kosher tradition, Ehrlich became oriented to her family and to her faith. She explained the plight of her religion, and that tradition, in her life and in this world, was that which she viewed as salvation. “Not that I believe in a world to come. But a roasted chicken on a Friday night after candles are lit and lights are turned low and blessing are said, in a clean house, is for the moment, paradise enough…like a made escapee from an unknown century, I explain to myself, hoping for the right answer” (Ehrlich, 293). Ehrlich, at this very moment, was able to connect to her ancestors at Shabbat dinner. Through eating and cooking family recipes, Ehrlich repaired “the breaches in the transmission of tradition” (Ochs, 108). Even though keeping kosher is not a part of my family’s custom, I can relate to the aspect of tradition. Every Christmas, my family makes an infamous, complex gravy. In years past, however, I recollect calling my grandmother to gather the exact recipe for the meatballs. Similarly, Ehrlich’s daughter called her Bubbe for a specific recipe in hopes of maintaining family food tradition. For Ehrlich, it’s clear that we follow food guidelines in efforts to maintain religious tradition, an invaluable portal to the past. Food within a family, culture, and religion often has a higher meaning to be unpacked and explained. It broadcasts a message of pride, identity, and nostalgia as evidenced in the works of Mary Douglas’ Deciphering a Meal. Mary Douglas, a British anthropologist, was one of the first people to ask, “if food is a code, where is the pre-coded message?” (Douglas, 61) While partaking in my Judaic food practice, I uncovered a similar assertion that food is indeed a channel of communication. We can see food as adhering to the same practices as language because food is a code, expressing patterns about social relationships. Like Ehrlich, Douglas illustrates how people fast and eat food in a particular way to communicate across generations, directly linking both ritual and culture. For example, food is usually the centerpiece at our important occasions, such as holidays, birthdays, weddings, bar/bat mitzvahs, communions, and funerals. It can be dubbed as ritualistic because there is usually a clear set of rules when hosting certain meals, such as a Shabbat or Sunday dinners. These procedures normally involve repetition, expected behaviors, and mandated roles for both the participants and the foods. The repetition encompassed by the meal “invests the individual meal with additional meaning” (67). Although I am not Jewish, I understand that there were people, hundreds of years ago, who abided by the same rules of kashrut. By following these ancient rules, I felt a sense of intimacy as I was standing in and observing their practice.
During my journey, I recall feasting my eyes on a turkey burger that sat plump on a plate before me. All it needed, I thought, was some feta cheese. Before it was too late, I realized that I could not satisfy my cravings because I would be disobeying the rules of kashrut. Although I abstained from my indulgences, I am confident that other Jews have experienced similar situations of dilemma when observing kashrut. Through observing Jewish food laws, I can, to a certain extent, relate to people who currently abide by kashrut as well as those people who have passed. Food is clearly very powerful, connecting people both physically and symbolically.
Food is also limitless in terms of communication. It can extend into the past, present, and future. In Mystical Bodies, Mystical Meal, Joel Hecker affirms the relationship between feasting and fasting. People have two choices: (1) to feast and feed solely themselves or (2) to fast, abiding by God’s food rules, and feed themselves as well as God. “Food is a sign of God’s power” (Hecker, 39) either acting as a blessing or a curse. If a person agrees and “gives heed,” then only good things will come. On the contrary, if a person disagrees, then he or she will be “fed the sword” (27). It’s apparent that God has the divine authority to dictate what is deemed edible and inedible, while also rewarding those people who follow His food rules. God’s control of food transcends to kosher-style eating because my diet was restricted by Jewish food rules. By partaking in kashrut, however, I grew closer in communion with God. Likewise, for Arthur Waskow, fasts were “seen mostly as way of coming closer to God” (Waskow, 143). In Down-to Earth Judaism, Waskow delves into the importance of seeking God’s appreciation through food. Abiding by God’s established food rules intertwines with seeking good deeds.
Moreover, in From Feasting to Fasting, Veronika Grimm tethers her analysis and discussion of food rules to Jewish codes of ethical conduct. For Jews, rules of kashrut were given by God and were to be followed. In fasting, Jews “show total dedication to the service of God, to controlling the appetites in order to prevent sin and to purify the soul” (Grimm, 23). Through penitence and humility, Jews can arouse the pity of God. Grimm attempts to clarify the social and symbolic meanings given to food, fasting, and faith. Therefore, when people, like myself, follow rules of kashrut, we emanate spiritual strength and bolster our ties with God.
Whenever I follow religious instruction, whether Catholic or Jewish, I undoubtedly feel holier within the religious sector and also believe God acknowledges my good deeds. Thus, by maintaining a kosher-style diet for three days, I felt a sense of devotion and surrender to Jewish wisdom. My experience as kosher-style Catholic has been positive. I hope to educate my religious community about the intimate, multifaceted rules of kashrut. I encourage my friends and family to immerse themselves in other traditions, such as kosher-style, so that they too can learn about the imbedded values and relationships behind food.
Diane McGee, in Writing the Meal, investigates several relationships that are created via food. One relationship that she emphasizes is what is considered edible versus what is considered inedible. This distinction was extremely important for my kosher-style food practice as cultural decrees tended to reign over my food choices. Many of the foods that I avoided were perfectly edible from a biological standpoint, but were inedible from a religious perspective. Humans are taught, in the early stages of life, which foods are acceptable depending on the group to which he or she belongs. “The choice of what is acceptable to eat plays a major role in defining the culture—whether of a nation, a tribe, a class, or a family” (McGee, 15). Kashrut tendencies work simultaneously to reinforce and transmit the identity of Judaism. Since I identified with the Jewish culture for three whole days, I learned how to steer away from eating dairy-based cookies and chocolate directly after a meat-based meal. I never knew how strict these food taboos were until I actually participated in them. Secondly, McGee highlights the relationship between food and meaning. “Children learn more at the table than merely what is good to eat” (15). Children tend to become manifested in their religious culture, national culture, and internal family culture, as depicted by children’s participation in Passover fasting and Lenten fasting. By expressing a religious commitment at a young age, children are able to experience a unity with God. Food arouses a special feeling of belonging and religious zeal among all faithful peoples and, perhaps, this is why we partake in fasting.
On the last night of my kosher-style food practice, I decided to call my wise grandmother for some input. “Through refraining from our indulgences,” my grandmother explained, “we grow spiritually closer with God and, at the same time, transform our lives." My grandmother's words coincided with the words of scholars from our class readings. Their explanation boils down to one thing: food is mystical. Guy Davenport beautifully elucidated, “eating is always at least two activities: consuming food and obeying a code of manners” (Ochs, 101). The transformation of our Earthly eating habits transcend to our spiritual growth and our union with Christ. Through our eating habits, we obey an ancient code of manners that bring us closer not only to our ancestors but, more importantly, to God. Not only was my stomach satiated, but finally, I was satisfied with my answer.

Works Cited
• Douglas, Mary. "Deciphering a Meal." Daedalus 101.1 (1972): 61-81. JSTOR. Web. 5 Mar. 2015. .
• Grimm, Veronika E. From Feasting to Fasting, the Evolution of a Sin: Attitudes to Food in Late Antiquity. London: Routledge, 1996. Print.
• Hecker, Joel. Mystical Bodies, Mystical Meals: Eating and Embodiment in Medieval Kabbalah. Detroit: Wayne State UP, 2005. Print.
• McGee, Diane E. Writing the Meal: Dinner in the Fiction of Early Twentieth-century Women Writers. Toronto: U of Toronto, 2001. Print.
• Ochs, Vanessa L. "Beyond Kashrut: Six Jewish Food Rules." Chosen Food: Cuisine, Culture, and American Jewish Identity (2011): 101-09. Web. 5 Mar. 2015. .
• Rich, Tracey R. "Judaism 101: Kashrut: Jewish Dietary Laws." Judaism 101: Kashrut: Jewish Dietary Laws. N.p., 2011. Web. 05 Mar. 2015. .
• Sigman, Shayna M. "Kosher Without Law." Florida State University Law Review 31.3 (2004): 509-57. Web. 5 Mar. 2015. .
• Waskow, Arthur. Down-to-earth Judaism: Food, Money, Sex, and the Rest of Life. New York: W. Morrow, 1995. Print.