There’s been a debate in my office about how to pronounce the word “orange.” The Midwesterners of the group (hi) pronounce it the correct way, “oh-range,” and the East Coasters (hi mom) say “ah-range,” which is blatantly incorrect. It’s caused quite a stir in our workplace proximity relationships.

Aren’t we fun?

Also, sorry mom.


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This past Tuesday, these two theater nerds saw Fiddler on the Roof in Yiddish. And it was glorious.

If you’ve had a chance to mosey on over to our ‘about’ page, you’ll know my favorite musical is Fiddler on the Roof. I don’t know if it’s the timeless tale of the old country, the heart-piercing songs about leaving home or the crazy on-the-nose Jewish humor, but something about that show gets me misty-eyed before the Overture is even finished.

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So I think my 27th birthday was one of the best days of my life.

Last Friday marked my 27th turn around the sun, and I got to spend the day with some of the loveliest humans I know. I walked from Morningside Heights to Midtown East through Central Park and saw a man walking 10 dogs at once. I walked from Midtown East to Chelsea and saw so many tourists. Punctuating all of this walking was coffee with new coworkers, brunch with best friends and drinks with my partner. It was already pretty damn lovely.

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In all my years of celebrating Halloween, I can't pinpoint a particularly genius costume. I always opted for the Disney princess, the baby in a giant onesie, the store-bought nurse's costume to match the scrubs my college boyfriend found at a thrift store. This was all in an arguably simpler time - a time before Instagram likes crowned the best costume and being meta was all the rage. Despite my simple costume choices, however, I absolutely adore Halloween. 

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Back in college, most members of the Michigan Jewish community committed themselves to the boxed Duncan Hines brownie mix. For one thing, it didn't have any dairy ingredients (suspicious, I know), so if you kept kosher, you could get away with having both your Shabbat dinner chicken and your sweet tooth. But, I'm pretty sure those boxed mixes were laced with something kind of addictive artificial chemicals because we made our way through a tin brownies in the matter of a few hours, especially if said brownies were undercooked. It was a dangerous addiction I knew I had to put an end to.

College is never a time of food connoisseurship for anyone, naturally. I think most people spend their college years shuffling in and out of the kitchen, trying not to burn their popcorn and avoiding the dishes piling up in the sink. After three years of the above, I finally discovered my love for baking senior year. Once I realized a boxed brownie mix wouldn't cut it, I started experimenting with other non-dairy dessert options for my more religious friends. But the truth was, there was nothing like a real, dairy-filled dessert - especially one swirled with stuff.

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