Ransoming the Afikomen
Ziva had to admit it; she did miss celebrating her Jewish holidays in Israel. Everything was a big deal there. She wished for the treats found from street vendors that were good, even on Passover.
Pesach is not very high on the list of good food holidays. Ziva smiled thinking about this. When you must use matzo meal instead of flour, your possibilities aren't exactly endless. Still, there was brisket, potato kugle, macaroons, and best of all, matzo ball soup. She would, however, have trouble finding her favorite Passover snack in the states. More than anything, she wished for Bamba.
Bamba is like a cheezdoodle, in its shape. It tastes a lot like one, or at least the inside does. On outside of a piece of Bamba, instead of cheese, there is peanut butter. To Ziva, it was heaven. It was also extremely hard to find in Washington DC. Ziva harrumphed.
Tony looked up from his work. Ziva looked pissed. He distantly remembered something about a Jewish holiday that came around April. Hoping to get some information, he did what he did best…pestered. "Why the long face, Zee-vah?" he asked, impishly.
She rolled her eyes and went back to work, pulling her lunch bag up onto her desk to eat while she read. She pulled out a large, thing, circular thing that looked like a cracker, and began to spread something that looked like unsalted butter on it. Tony grimaced. Not exactly the most tasteful of lunches. Why would Ziva, the fantastic cook, choose tasteless crackers and butter over anything she could make, or buy at the cafeteria?
He stood behind her, leaned over her desk and gave the cracker a good sniff. She gave him a half-hearted elbow to the ribs. "Shove off," she muttered, tiredly, and took a bite of her cardboard-flavored lunch.
"What's that?" Tony asked, trying to sound like he wasn't too eager to know.
"Matzah," Ziva replied boredly.
"Mah-what?" Tony asked, confused.
"Mah-tza," Ziva answered again, mincing her syllables. "In the Passover story, the Israelites didn't have enough time to let their bread rise before they had to leave, so they took it on their backs. The bread didn't rise, but baked flat. They ended up with matzah. Why couldn't they have ended up with blueberry muffins? And why can't they sell Bamba in Washington DC?" Ziva asked, annoyed.
"I'm…not sure…," Tony answered carefully, trying not to do anything that might set Ziva off. He made a mental note to look up what that Bamba thing was later. "So tell me about this holiday," he said, again trying to make the request sound off-hand, not carefully considered.
"No time now," Ziva started. When she saw Tony's mouth start to open in protest, she held up a finger to stall him. "Tonight is the second Passover seder. Come then, and I will tell you the story." Tony nodded.
x-x-x
It's amazing how much time girls put in to trying to look like they took no time in choosing their outfit at all, and just threw on something beautiful. Clothes were scattered about Ziva's small bedroom as if a tornado had hit. The mess was a little disconcerting to her, but she was more concerned with finding the perfect outfit to wear. She wanted to hit herself. What was she doing, worrying about a stupid outfit? This was Tony! He'd seen her covered in blood, vomit, and any other muck that they picked up at crime scenes. Certainly he wouldn't pay attention to her outfit, she told herself.
Yeah.
Right.
She went back to tossing clothes around. By the time she managed to decide on a simple white sleeveless turtleneck and straight black pants, her doorbell was ringing. Ziva hurried to let her guest in, leading him to a low table in her living room that was surrounded by cushions. He glanced over at the dining room table, but shrugged and followed where she led him.
Ziva plopped down on the floor and handed him a book. Haggadah, it said on the back cover. He opened it up, and was surprised to see an index and a list of sources. Ziva pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. "You're reading it backwards, silly," she said. "In Israel, we read from right to left, and the books open the other way. Don't worry, though, this Haggadah has English translation for you as well." She didn't need to tell him that she had run out immediately after work to buy special Haggadahs so that Tony would be able to follow along.
Ziva started, opening the book. She handed Tony a wineglass and a small plate, placing a pitcher of wine and a larger plate with several assorted food items off to the side. "Give me a minute," she said, rising. She came back with two candles in candlesticks and a lighter. She lit one candle, and used that one to light the other. She waved her hands over the candles three times, as if drawing the light to her, before covering her eyes and reciting a short prayer. Then she set the candles aside. Tony watched quietly.
When she had finished, Ziva filled each of their wineglasses and lifted hers. Tony did the same. Again, she recited a short blessing, then sipped from the wine. Tony followed. He was a little scared, not knowing exactly what he was doing. It was hard walking into even Ziva's apartment, with no idea what would happen. Still, he mirrored her, hoping she would explain soon.
Again Ziva rose, returning this time returning with a bowl of water and a cup. She placed it on the table, and took a cup of water. Then, smiling, she pulled Tony's hands over the bowl. "Afraid I'll bite, Tony?" she asked, trying to lessen the sobriety of his expression. "As ritualistic as this holiday is, it can also be fun," she told him, chuckling to herself as she poured water over both of his hands and then over hers. She dried both of her hands and then set the bowl aside.
"Time for hors d'oeuvres!" Ziva announced. It was all Tony could do to keep from licking his lips at the thought of Ziva's home cooking. He tried not to grimace when he was startled out of his thoughts of dancing roast beef by a piece of parsley dipped in salt water being waved under his nose. Ziva laughed. "Not the kind of appetizers you were imagining, yes? This is Passover. We eat karpas first. Parsley, or potato, which is sometimes used, were often served as appetizers in Jerusalem. The salt water represents the tears of the Hebrew slaves. Everything we eat tonight is symbolic. Sorry, it is kind of long. But I hope the festive meal will make it worth your while." Tony smiled again. It most certainly would.
"Next we break the matzah," Ziva told him. She pulled out the middle of the three cracker-like things sitting under the plate holding the food. She broke it in half, replacing one half and wrapping the other in a napkin. "This is the afikomen," she told him. "The seder can't end until we've each had a piece." She smiled devilishly, hatching a plan.
Tony looked at it dubiously. "I have to eat that?" Ziva pulled a face that plainly said, It's not so horrible. Suck it up. Tony did.
The next page in Tony's book said The Four Questions. "When were you born, Tony?" she asked. When he answered, she swore. He looked at her, bemused. "The youngest has to sing the four questions. You're older. I guess I'll start." As Ziva sang, a beautiful and timid voice reciting old, familiar words, Tony read the English. Why is this night different from all other nights? Because I am spending it with someone who really is special, Tony thought to himself.
"Now the part I believe you have been waiting for," Ziva said, "the story." Tony sat up straighter to hear her tale. "Long ago, we, the Hebrews, were slaves in Egypt. We once lived there happily, in prosperity, but a new pharaoh came along, and he decided that the Jews were growing too strong. He had all the Hebrew baby boys drowned in the river.
"Of course, we are not a very obedient people by nature, though. One mother wove a basket of reeds. She placed her baby boy in the basket, and sent him down the river. His sister, Miriam, followed to make sure he would be alright. He was more than alright.
"On that day, the pharaoh's daughter went out for a bath. Hearing the baby's cry, she pulled the basket nearer and took it out of the water. She loved the baby as her own, and named him Moses, meaning 'I drew him forth from the water.' And so, the deliverer of the Hebrews was raised an Egyptian prince.
"One day, Moses saw an old man being struck by an overseer. The old man had been a slave so long that he could no longer work as fast as he was expected to. Moses pushed the overseer off the man, accidentally killing him. Moses could have been redeemed of his crimes, but he chose exile for his crime instead. He wandered far into the desert, where he took a wife and became a shepherd.
"Some time later, one of Moses' sheep escaped his flock. He followed it through the mountains until something caught his eye. A bush stood, burning, and yet it was not consumed. Moses wondered at it, and God spoke to him. He told Moses that he was the chosen one. He said that Moses would free the Hebrew slaves. He sent Moses to the pharaoh with an ultimatum: 'Let my people go'
"Of course, the pharaoh wasn't exactly gung-ho about this idea. He said no. Moses warned him that God would not stand for it, but the pharaoh, Moses' one-time brother, would not listen. God sent ten plagues. Blood, frogs, lice, wild beasts, cattle plague, boils, hail, locusts, and darkness plagued the Egyptians, with no change of heart from the pharaoh. Finally, after the tenth plague, the slaying of all of the firstborn Egyptian sons, the pharaoh ordered the Hebrews off of his land. They were only too happy to leave. Moses said that they must leave quickly, so they did not have time to let their bread rise. Instead, we got matzah, which we eat on Passover.
"As Moses feared, pharaoh changed his mind and gave chase. When the Hebrews came to the Red Sea, they couldn't figure out what to do. Moses lifted his staff and put it in the water. The Red Sea parted, and the Jews crossed on dry land. When the Egyptians tried to follow, the Red Sea crashed down and drowned them all. God's angels began to dance and sing, but God stopped them. They Egyptians were his children too, and so we spill a drop of wine, a drop of our happiness, for each of the plagues brought down on the Egyptians.
"It took the people 40 years of wandering in the desert to reach Canaan, or Israel, as we know it today. God provided mana for them on their journey. But eventually, they did reach the holy land, and they made their home there. The end," Ziva finished with a quiet smile.
"Now we wash our hands again, and then we eat!" They washed their hands together. Ziva handed Tony a small piece of matzah. After saying the blessing, they ate it. Then they ate a piece of matzah with bitter herbs on it, "to show the bitterness of slavery," Ziva explained. Finally a sandwich of the bitter herbs along with a paste of apples, nuts, honey, cinnamon, and wine called charoset, which represented the mortar between the bricks that the Hebrews built with. Then a hard boiled egg. Tony took all of this without complaint, and he was even gracious about the taste of the bitter herbs. Ziva resisted the urge to take his temperature.
"Now, your other favorite part, the meal," Ziva said, laughing openly. Tony smiled too. She refilled their wineglasses many times over the course of their dinner. Smells and foods that Tony had never seen before waltzed past. Ziva must have cooked nonstop to finish everything. Something inside him was moved, and he was startled, but pleasantly surprised.
Finally, his stomach could hold no more. After clearing the plates, Ziva sat down and gave him the same devilish smile that she had before. "So, what will you give me for my afikomen?" she asked him.
"A big thank you?" he asked, unfamiliar with the tradition.
Ziva rolled her eyes and giggled. "You are ridiculous. No, a thank you will not do. I have the power here. You're not allowed to leave until you can ransom this from me."
Tony smiled a crafty smile to match Ziva's. She was confused. What would make him so happy. "Actually, I was going to give this to you later, but I guess I'll offer the contents of this bag." He held up a large shopping bag. He was actually pretty proud of himself for bringing something.
Ziva peeked inside and gave a high-pitched shriek before enveloping Tony in a huge hug. "Thank you," she said into his ear, "for making my Passover different from all others. Tony swung her around as small bags of Bamba tipped out of the shopping bag and onto the floor.