A. L. Kaplan

Category: Essay

  • A Pesach Story

    Recently I was asked to share a favorite Passover story. Dozens of memories flashed through my mind, most of them involving matzo, like the year we went to Seder at my brother’s house and their dog, Bert, stole the Afikoman while we ate dinner. Then there was the time with my husband’s family where the kids hid the Afikoman for the adults. After much searching, a dozen people announced that they had found the hidden matzo and held up napkin wrapped fakes. The looks on the kids’ faces were priceless. Of course my husband loves to tell the story about when his aunt moved and they found an old Afikoman hidden behind a picture. I’m sure many people have stories like that in their family.

    Our engagement was also announced on Passover. Saturday morning we drove from Maryland to NJ and told our parents. After an early Seder (and meal) with my family, we drove to my future husband’s family gathering. Forty people packed the townhouse where he announced “I’d like to introduce my fiancé.” That night we drove back to Maryland. It was a wonderful but exhausting day.

    Even with all these delightful Passover memories, there is one that stands out in my mind and it’s the one I shared. When I close my eyes I can still see it: the little apartment in NY, a piano on the right hand wall near the kitchen, my aunt, uncle, and cousins from my dad’s family. I loved visiting with my cousins and listening to my grandpa chant the prayers in Hebrew. Then the meal would come. I think there may have been pot-roast somewhere on the table, but the plate of steaming sliced tongue was what I reached for every time. Tongue must be a NY/NJ kind of delicacy. It’s hard to find here in Maryland. When I do find it, I’m always reminded of my family, and the occasional sing along with Grandma playing that piano I mentioned.

    Do you have a Passover memory you’d like to share?

  • For the Love of Canines: Praeses Part 2

    Praeses 10After growing up with an untrained dog, I was determined to teach my puppy. The hopes were for a cross between Lassie and Rin Tin Tin. A friendly stranger introduced me to the Dog Owners Training Club of Maryland, and so began our education. Note the name says dog owners training, and not dog training. I had as much to learn about teaching a dog as Praeses had to learn about good behavior.

    I took everything in stride, even when she talked back during class. And she really did talk back, even as she followed every command I gave her. Our education went so wonderfully, that I decided to enter her in an obedience trial. It wasn’t until we had earned the second leg of our Companion Dog degree that someone mentioned that Alaskan Malamutes were supposed to be difficult to train. She came in first place and was even the highest scoring novice at the show. The very next week at what should havPraeses 7e been our last novice trial, she sat across the ring during the sit stay and turned it into a sit say. I wanted nothing better than to crawl under the mats and hide I was so embarrassed. Needless to say, we were disqualified.

    Praeses did earn her degree a few weeks later. In fact, she was the highest scoring novice Alaskan Malamute in the country for 1990. Her picture is published in the Alaskan Malamute Praeses 8Annual for 1991 on page 8. She’s listed as Heljwins Praeses Kaplan CD with a score of 197 out of 200. We hit our obedience wall with retrieving. Wooden dumbbells just weren’t her thing. Neither was bringing things back to me. While we didn’t compete at the higher levels, we did continue going to class for fun.

    People always asked me if Praeses knew any tricks.  Well, I only taught her two stupid pet tricks. She could balance a cookie on the end of her nose and catch it on command. A friend of mine needed a wolf for a movie he was making, so I also taught her to play dead. Praeses was a bit of a ham and did a stumble-stumble fall while doing it, complete with convincing death vocalizations. She was billed as Praeses the Wonder Dog. Ah, the joys of life at an art school. Did I mention she wore costumes? I still have her Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtledog costume in the basement. She was Michelangelo, complete with numb chucks and pizza.Praeses 9

    Down the street from my apartment was an empty lot which was used as an unofficial off Lead Park. Every morning and evening the local pack would meet up and play. Even as a puppy Praeses knew she would be big and tried to throw her shoulder at the larger dogs. It was rather amusing to watch. Remember that smart little pup who sought out the shade? Well, every time the dog tag/chase game ran its wide circle around the park, Praeses cut across the center to catch the leader. Worked every time. Overall, Praeses was very smart, except when it came to tennis balls. She absolutely loved them…as snacks. In a matter of twenty minutes, while visiting a friend’s house, Praeses consumed three and a half balls. Luckily she was fine, but didn’t feel well for a few days. She also learned to wake me by bouncing her head on my bed. As a rule, Praeses wasn’t allowed on the furniture, but one day when I was sick, she looked at me with those big brown eyes. I could see the question in her eyes asking “can I?” All I did was nod my head slightly and say ok. She was on the bed in a flash and quickly curled up at my feet.

    Praeses was more than a dog. She was a companion and friend, the anchor that kept me grounded in reality, never allowing my mind to drift careless when I needed to be focused. We moved out of the city when I got married and started a pack of our own. Praeses passed away in her sleep one month before my second daughter was born.

  • For the Love of Canines: Praeses Part 1

    Praeses 3Several years after Tiger passed on I found myself living in downtown Baltimore. Grad school at MICA was fine, but city life just isn’t my thing. I missed the outdoors and going for walks in the park without fear. Walks at night were out of the question unless I had an escort. More importantly, I missed the kind of companionship only a dog can give. No strings, no demands, just unconditional love. Unfortunately, without a MD drivers license, adopting from the local animal shelter was out.

    I’ve always felt it important to do research before adopting any pet. After all, a bad personality mix is worse than no pet at all. The needs of the pet have to be met. A stray cocker spaniel followed me home one day. It was cute, but grabbed my ankles when I tried to play, which I found annoying. Besides, she was way too small for me. I wanted a dog I could pet without having to bend over, one I wouldn’t be afraid of stepping on by accident. It wasn’t hard to find her a good home, but that left me still dogless.

    While perusing a book in the library, I discovered the perfect breed of dog for me. The first line on the description read “don’t let the wolf like characteristics for this breed deter you.” I was hooked.  The Alaskan malamute is a working dog and like most of the northern breeds, highly independent.

    I found a local breeder through an ad, and after several interviews, was allowed to pick a dog from her litter. Half a dozen puppies ran and greeted me enthusiastically on that 95 degree humid day. One small fur ball said hello, then separate from the frenzied pack and crawled under the shade of a lawn chair. She was different, with shorter fur, and in my eyes smarter for getting out of the sun. I knew then, that she was the dog for me. As luck would have it, she was also ‘improperly coated’, which meant she wasn’t a show dog. That was fine. I wanted a companion, not a beauty pageant queen. So, for 200 dollars and a barter deal for a few sculptures, my new best friend came home with me.

    Praeses 4

    Praeses is Latin for guardian or protector or in her case, protectoress. She more than lived up to her name, protecting me from every squirrel and dog in the neighborhood. Her very appearance, even as a puppy inspired some people in the city to cross the road, rather than walk past her on the sidewalk. If they only knew. Praeses, like wolves in the wild, lived by the hierarchy of the pack.  I was her alpha, but most people were betas in her eyes, putting her one level below. I kept that secret safe.Praeses 5

    Praeses 6

    Funds were tight as a student, and I gulped at our first vet visit when the receptionist handed us our bill and politely said, “That will be 150 dollars this time” It was the ‘this time’ that got me. Owning a dog is expense but worth it.

    Our first night, I was so afraid she would have an accident in the house, that I didn’t sleep a wink. Every time she stirred, I would scoop her up and take her to the curb. We finally got our rhythms in sync after a week or so, and my roommate told me how to make a station chain in the kitchen to keep her out of mischief until she was house trained. Even if I could have afforded a crate, my research had mentioned that malamutes preferred tie outs to the confinement of a crate.

  • For the Love of Canines: Tiger

    Me and Tiger
    Me and Tiger

    Around the time I entered kindergarten my family got a dog. My parents both grew up in New York City and didn’t know much about dogs or dog training. But we lived in the suburbs of New Jersey, they had three kids, and getting a dog was the thing to do. Besides, my mom had always wanted one. My pleas for a lengthy name with Bluebird in it were ignored. They named him Tiger.

    What really set off my love of dogs was not the appearance of this rambunctious creature that even as a puppy would drag me across the lawn. It was the incident in the kitchen. My memories are a little fuzzy on details. Clearly I had done something wrong that deserved a severe scolding, but I have no idea what. I remember my mother being very angry and looming over me while I lay on the floor. Suddenly, Tiger was standing over me, protecting me from potential danger. At least that’s how I saw it. Although I didn’t realize it until years later, that incident sealed the bond between me and canines.

    Half border collie and half standard poodle, Tiger was all untrained mutt. He stole food off the table and counters, begged and whined while we ate, barked at everything, and ran off every second he got the chance. Car rides were impossible as he started barking as soon as he entered any vehicle and didn’t stop until he got out. Tiger wasn’t a total train wreck. He learned to walk on his back legs and do other stupid pet tricks as long as food was involved. He was also a great listener and never once complained about my singing. Tiger and I were like siblings. I was the only one he ever growled and snapped at, but still loved him. He was family. My attempts to teach him manners later in life, however, met with failure.

    One cold December evening, when I was home from college, I went over to say goodnight before heading up to bed. By that time he could no longer walk up the two steps into the house and was living in the garage. Tiger raised his head and looked at me, wagged his tail a few time, then lay his head down and when back to sleep. He never woke up. It was a goodbye wag I would never forget.

    Tiger Sleeping
    Tiger Sleeping

  • Under the Hanukah Tree

    Gifts? Who cares about gifts? Christmas activities are what really rock, like piling into the car and driving to my favorite restaurant in New York’s Chinatown. We’d bundle up against the cold and walk to Mott Street, stopping in shops on the way. Each year I’d buy a tiny clay figure of a peasant for my collection. Then it was on to Hunan House for a delicious banquet with our friends. Of course we had soup. Hot and sour or sizzling rice were my favorites followed by pan fried dumplings and spare ribs. The main course varied year to year, but moo shu pork and whole crispy sweet and pungent sea bass were almost always on the menu. Once in a while, if we ordered in advance, we’d get Peking duck as an extra special treat.

    Chinese restaurants aren’t known for their desserts, but Hunan House used to do a fried banana that was out of this world. They’d bring the sizzling pan of glazed bananas to the table and quick drop them in a bowl of ice water. The result was a hot delicious cooked banana surrounded by a sweet hard candy shell. If only I could go back in time. I’ve never found another restaurant that did fried banana’s like that.

    Bananas weren’t always on the menu. If they weren’t, we’d go to the ice cream place around the corner for mango ice cream or to Little Italy down on Mulberry Street for pastries. Not the same, but always delicious.

    Today this tradition has been passed on to the next generation.

    Happy New Year and may all your steam buns be hot.

  • Restaurant Review: Asia Nine

    Wandering around DC before seeing Jersey Boys at the National Theatre, my family and I happened upon Asia Nine Bar and Lounge. The restaurant was practically empty, which didn’t inspire confidence, but it was barely six in the evening on a Thursday night so we decided to give it a try. We were greeted with smiles as soon as we entered, and the service remained impeccable the entire evening. My mouth started watering as soon as I opened the menu, which has a collection of Asian fusion dishes. The quiet, relaxing yet elegant décor was the perfect atmosphere for a sleepy Thursday night before a show.

    Asia Nine offers a wide variety of small and entrée sized dishes, and a sushi bar. For you sake fans, there is a plethora of brands to choose from. We decide to pass on drinks. (Falling asleep at the theatre is so not cool.) After much deliberation we settled on three of their small plates and two entrées which we ate family style. Presentation from start to finish was perfect. Unfortunately the same can’t be said for flavor. Most dishes were wonderful, while others just didn’t work.

    Our first appetizer, the Peking Duck Roll, was one of our favorites. The meat, wrapped with cucumber, scallions, and hoisin sauce was delicious, but it was the Indian Roti wrapper that had me. I would have been content with a basket of the bread for dinner. The Asian Shrimp Ravioli, served with a sesame-sake crème was Debra’s favorite. I loved the ravioli, but found the sauce a little too rich and plentiful for the three small bites swimming in the bowl. The Nuta Salad, which contained a variety of fresh raw fish, sliced cucumber, and seaweed, was our least favorite dish of the evening. There was also no mention in the menu that the sesame sake and miso dressing was spicy. Had we known, we would have ordered something different as only half of the family enjoys spicy food.

    Our two entrees, chosen from the list of signature dishes got split reviews. Julie and Bruce both loved the Korean Sizzling Beef, which we heard coming long before we saw it. The sliced and marinated sirloin came to the table sizzling and bubbling with a smattering of vegetables. It smelled lovely, and the taste was reminiscent of Korean barbeque, but not quite. The Grilled Salmon with New Style Udon consisted of a grilled salmon fillet laid across a bed of Japanese udon noodles. Debra and I loved the flavor of the light sauce, which didn’t taste particularly garlicky or creamy despite the description. There was just enough of it to flavor and coat all the noodles without being soupy. Bruce didn’t care for this dish at all and Julie wasn’t thrilled with it either.

    Dessert, which is ordered and served through a different waitress, was the highlight of the meal. We found two to share from their limited selection. Thai tiramisu, a layered chocolate, coffee and almond confection was light, rich, and full of flavor. I made sure to run my fork across the chocolate & caramel sauce crisscrossed over the plate with each bite. The real winner was the Sticky Rice with Fresh Mango, which wasn’t even on the menu. The creamy and coconut flavored rice was absolutely wonderful, especially paired with fresh mango.

    Asia Nine is located just around the corner from Ford’s Theatre at 915 E Street NW, Washington, DC 20004. Phone: 202.629.4355

  • Inspiration to Write: Part 2

    People have asked me why I write. The answer is simple. There is a story in me that is trying to get out. It often starts as a single scene, manipulated by the spark of creativity and imagination. That one scenario may play in my mind for days, gradually growing in depth and dimension until it begins to bang on the doors of my head, as if to say, “Write me down so I can come to life.”
    For many years, insecure in my ability to express ideas through words, I ignored this call, using other artistic methods to placate my creativity. The stories in my mind remained mere picture books, silent movies that only I could read. I’d like to thank that college professor who first challenged me to throw away the formulas beat into me throughout high school and give a voice to the characters that lived inside of me.
    I still remember the very first class. The teacher sat on her desk and told us to focus on creativity and not to worry about grammar and spelling. Silently I cheered. Grammar has never been a problem, but spelling was and is my long-time nemesis. Personal computers were only available to the very wealthy at that time, so my first assignment was written longhand. I got an A. Then the teacher politely requested that those of us with ‘artistic’ handwriting please write every other line.

  • Inspiration to Write: Part 1

    Even before I picked up my first book I began writing stories in my mind. Just like the heroes in my favorite cartoons, I stood up for the innocent and persecuted, defeating the enemy with cunning and ingenuity. Animals were ever my companions on these adventures. The earliest were cats, no doubt a result of my attachment to Kimba the White Lion and Felix the Cat. (Yes, I had my own magic bag of tricks.) Felines quickly gave way to canines with the addition of a dog to my home (aptly named Tiger) and horses, a fascination that lasted well into high school.

    I learned to read with Clifford the Red Dog and my love of animals and the outdoors took off from there. Any story that had animals caught my eye and I whipped through books like My Friend Flicka and all the works of Albert Payson Terhune. Laura Ingles Wilder, James Herriot and Jack London were also among my favorite authors.

    Despite being terrified of the bugs on my first Girl Scout camping trip in third grade, I loved the outdoors and the thought of living in the wild fascinated me. Looking back now, I’d have to say that the three most influential books I read were, Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell, Julie of the Wolves, and My Side of the Mountain, by Jean Craighead George. All three are about kids living on their own in the wild. Knowing this, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that my two favorite musicals are “Annie” and “Oliver”. I guess I have a thing for abandoned, or downtrodden orphaned kids with good hearts, struggling to survive.

    Animal and adventure stories were the mainstay of my reading diet until the beginning of high school. With some trepidation I began reading a book my Brother had given me the year before…and was immediately drawn into the world of fantasy. I finished reading the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy in three weeks, then turned around and reread it, discussing and trading editorial notes with a friend.

    It’s not that elves and hobbits were new to me; I had seen an animated version of the Hobbit several years earlier and quite enjoyed it. I loved watching both fantasy and science fiction on TV and at the theatre, but I had never read any stories in either genre. It felt as though an entire new world had opened to me, and my propensity to daydream by popping into books, Gumby style, increased.