Writing about food and specifically the joy of food in the context of all that we have been through in the last 18 months, are going through, well, I don't know, but just, Marie Antoinettish? Obtuse? Detached from reality?

My neighbours lost their son, the deputy principal at my kid's school was seriously wounded and hasn't been able to come back to teaching, relatives of other people I know are still held hostage by Hamas, others are still displaced from their homes, and I'm going to ponder ingredients and recipes, revel in a cake that came out just so and delight in gastronomy?

And yet food is so central to our society, to how we show care, show love. It's cliche to say it, but far beyond mere sustenance, cooking someone a meal is a way to send a hug. Every weekend thousands make homecooked meals for strangers, and others deliver these meals around the country, to the displaced, to on duty first responders, to reservists away from their families for weeks and months and more. We make meals for the bereaved, for reservist families who haven't seen their mother or father in so long, for the new mothers trying to hold it together alone, the families spending every moment by the bedside of a wounded child or spouse, Nova survivors locked in trauma.

Sometimes it feels like preparing food for someone is the only thing you can do because there are no words for such situations and a comforting fresh baked hallah loaf or pot of soup seems so much more articulate.

And now it's spring again and the Passover holiday is coming again but we are all still frozen in October 2023, time moves but at the same time we are shocked that it does so. And yet time moves and life must continue even if we aren't sure how.

Sometimes our days seem mostly normal, some days we're walking zombies because of 3am missiles from Yemen that send half the country running into the shelters.

The elementary school round the corner took the young kids on a little nature walk recently to recite the traditional spring blessing on blossoming fruit trees. Right there in the open they were surprised by a midday missile siren (the Houthis had mostly been firing in the wee hours) and all the children and teachers had to hit the ground, scrambling for cover, no time to get to shelter, listening to the massive booms of the defensive missiles intercepting the attacking missile, thankful that no shrapnel fell in our area and everyone was physically OK.

And then they all got up and continued their nature walk and saw the blossoming fruit trees and enjoyed the wildflowers and the flocks of migrating birds and the dancing butterflies. Because what else can you do?

So when I was asked if I could be a volunteer helper with the school's annual pre-Passover matza bake I had to say yes, These kids have been through so much, I wanted to be able to contribute to something fun and traditional, part of the typical spring routine that they enjoy every year.

I love the teacher who organised the bake this year, low key and very traditional in the way that he set up domed griddles over a bonfire, just as though we were camping out on our way through the desert after the exodus from Egypt.

The children made the dough and rolled it out, then used spiked rollers or forks to create the dots. Some of the kids insisted on rolling the dough out so thin that it tore and others made it so thick that it didn't quite bake through and still others just wanted to make the biggest pile of dough they could. And some got it just right. Not quite the rigorous sterile process used to bake strictly "kosher" matza used for the holiday itself, but enough of an insight into the process for young kids to experience baking matza.

And while the custom is for one to refrain from tasting matza between the Purim holiday and Passover, so that the matza will taste new at the Passover seder meal, the kids of course couldn't resist tasting their freshly baked creations. The teacher in charge also teaches gardening, so the pupils harvested some herbs from their school herb garden, then ground them with olive oil in a pestle and mortar to make a deliciously fragrant herb infused dip. Those children averse to green things could choose chocolate spread instead.

We were blessed with a bright quiet, calm morning of smiling faces and laughter, truly a taste of spring and the holiday of freedom.