The weekend kicked off with a not-so-traditional Shabbat dinner at Fellow Mountain Cafe, the Catskills hot-spot known for its viral cinnamon buns. Trading its bistro tables for longer family-style ones, the cafe welcomed guests in with the warm glow of candlesticks and overflowing glasses of sweet wine. I attended with my younger sister, Gabi, who reminded me of our own family’s tradition of non-negotiable Shabbat dinner attendance each Friday night growing up (much to my younger self’s chagrin, since Friday night meant missing out on school events and fifth-grade birthday parties).
Photo: Moriah Wolfe
Photo: Moriah Wolfe
My mother instilled in me the importance of knowing the Shabbat prayers. She said that if I knew the blessings for the bread, the candles, and the wine, that I could go anywhere in the world and find home at a Shabbat dinner. This was proven true in the Catskills, as strangers quickly became friends. We expressed our gratitude for the meal and reflected on the week; a room of unfamiliar faces singing familiar melodies.
Dinner was cooked by Camille Becerra, a renowned chef hailing from Puerto Rico. Although not Jewish herself, Becerra holds a deep appreciation for Shabbat. “We all have our own practice of being grateful,” she said. “But there’s something about gathering to share that intention which is so special. I’m so grateful when I’m invited to a Shabbat dinner.” And invited for good reason: Becerra cooks a wonderful Shabbat meal. Tangy tomato matbucha, creamy tahini served in antique silver dishes, and pickles so tart they made my eyes squint all delighted guests at the table. The carrot and cumin salad, as well as the braised lamb with olives and harissa, were also clear favorites. (The dinner was a collection of dishes inspired by the recipes in the Jewish Food Society’s cookbook, The Jewish Holiday Table.) Around the table, guests shared familiar stories recounting their own recipes passed down l’dor vador—from generation to generation.
Carol Slutzky-Tenerowicz, a third-generation resident of the town of Hunter, sat next to me at dinner. Over crunchy spinach rissole fritters, she educated me on her mission of empowering the Jewish women of the Hunter Synagogue, where she served as president of the board for thirty years. “The only thing I knew about the Jewish religion when I was growing up was being stuck upstairs on the balcony,” she recounted. “When the men stood up and started to sing ‘Adon Olam,’ it was time to go home. When I grew up and had my own daughter, I sat in on her bat mitzvah lessons and got to learn with her.”
Photo: Moriah Wolfe
Photo: Moriah Wolfe
When she became board president, Slutzky-Tenerowicz discovered that the bylaws stated the only people eligible to serve on the board were Jewish men aged 16 to 75. “We quickly had to fix those bylaws, because I had already been president for five years,” she laughed.
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