Life, Love, Lox

I can't say the same for most of the men I date. Jewish? Always. Kosher? Rarely. To them, a hamburger without cheese is like Sheket Bevakasha without the "hey." So while keeping kosher enhances my spiritual life, it complicates my dating life.

Take my relationship with Jeff, a quick-witted movie exec who had me at "Shalom." Actually, he had me when his taut tuchus walked through my neighbor's front door, but the "Shalom" shout-out didn't hurt.

On our first date, he took me to a downtown diner that serves upscale comfort food. I ordered truffle mac-and-cheese, he ordered Mama's famous meatloaf, and we split a bottle of syrah I was secretly happy he could swing. Between the good food, the great company, and my slight buzz, our dinner blinked by. As I enjoyed my last morsel of cheesy perfection, Jeff took a bite of meatloaf, slid my way, and stole a kiss. Or at least he started to until I ducked. Yes, ducked. No, I'm not a big tease, I'm a big Jew, and technically a mid-bite kiss would have meant mixing milk and meat. When Jeff 's mouth touched mine, I didn't see fireworks, I didn't hear wedding bells: I heard the great rabbis reminding me not to seethe a calf in its mother's milk.

I tried not to panic, but the whole date had gone to trayf, and I needed to fix it fast. The Talmud doesn't teach us how to apply kashrut laws to kissing; but since I ate dairy and Jeff ate meat, I could have used the milk-before-meat rule, where you wait thirty minutes, eat something pareve, and then gargle. Although I doubt gargling was the deep-throat action Jeff was hoping to see that night. Now, some rabbis say if a dairy knife is accidentally used to cut cold meat, it should be thrust into the dirt ten times. So perhaps I should have stuffed my mouth with soil; I'm sure that would've impressed Jeff—I hear men like it when women talk dirty. I could have just been honest with Jeff and explained why I wasn't in the mood for making out. Not tonight, honey, I had dairy.

I know I could have avoided this whole mishegas by being upfront when we first placed our order, but I don't feel comfortable recruiting my first dates for active kosher duty. I can't tell a man I just met what he can and can't eat for dinner. There are three little words a woman should never say too early in a relationship: "He'll have the . . ."

So when should we have "The Talk"? After a week? A month? A year? At what point should I let a man know that saying yes to me means saying no to other women—and to other meats? Keeping kosher is one of my dealbreakers, so eventually Jeff would have to ditch his little black recipe book and sever ties with all his ex grill-friends. He can't have his milk and eat meat, too.

"Can I have a man cave in the basement where I cook cheeseburgers on a George Foreman?" Jeff asked during one of our kosher coupling chats.

That would render the whole house trayf. And be a fire hazard.

"Can I rent a separate apartment just to cook nonkosher meals?"

I suppose he could keep a small place on the side for all his afternoon delights—or in this case, afternoon snacks. But I don't think I could handle that kind of open relationship. If a man commits to me, he commits to my kitchen. It's all or nothing, ko-way or no way. Keeping kosher is how I connect to Judaism every day in a concrete way, and I want to share that connection with my spouse. I want the Jewish American dream: a loving husband, 2.5 children, and two sets of dishes.

"Well, if you buy two sets of dishes, can I buy two sets of golf clubs?"

By Moses, I think he's got it! I don't see why he can't keep separate golf carts or own two game systems or play in two fantasy football leagues.

"What about two women?"

Don't push it, schmendrik.

A few weeks later, Jeff started whipping up kosher versions of his favorite trayf treats: chili cheese dogs topped with soy cheddar, pizza bagels loaded with veggie pepperoni, and barbeque chicken pizza with soy cheese and a pareve crust. I think he's getting the hang of it, maybe even enjoying it. And while I don't want to count my kosher chickens before they hatch, I wouldn't be surprised if ultimately Jeff and I end up sharing separate dishes but not separate bedrooms.

The word kosher means "fit" or "proper." It not only applies to food but to kitchenware, Torahs, mezuzahs, tefillin, and tallit that are properly prepared and fit for use. People also throw it around in everyday phrases like "something's not kosher in Denmark." Not that the Danes are known for their blatant mixing of milk and meat.

Hechschers can be found on packaged foods, canned goods, and frozen items in grocery stores worldwide. In an effort to top the twelve tribes of Israel, there are now nearly 400 different rabbinical groups that offer hechsher services. Hechsher symbols often feature the letter K standing alone, inside a shape, beside a rabbinic council's initials, or incorporated into a Hebrew language seal. The Orthodox Union, the largest authority group, drops its OU tag on over 660,000 products, in over 5,000 facilities, in 77 countries. That's status.

The food tattoos don't end there. A hechsher is often immediately followed by the letter D or the letter P. The letter D indicates that the food is dairy and contains a milk product; P indicates that the food is pareve.

Today, many vineyards around the world produce award-winning, high-end kosher wines that stand up to their nonkosher counterparts. Specialty wine stores, kosher grocers, and kosher wine Web sites carry hechshered vino from South Africa, Spain, Argentina, Chile, Australia, Italy, Israel, Napa, and dozens of other regions. Jews can actually make good wine? I'll drink to that! L'chaim!

Like food preparation, kosher winemaking has special laws. In short, no animal products can be used during filtering (non-K wines often use egg whites or gelatin), all ingredients used (like yeast) must be kosher, vines must be at least four years old, and only Shabbat-observant Jews can participate in the winemaking process. A flash-pasteurizing process called meshuval helps kosher wines get around this last one. Remember kosher wine gets you just as drunk as the nonkosher stuff; so chug away, fellow Jews, chug away.

Now, if you're the shrimp-shunner of the two, show your boyfriend that your kosher routine won't make dating difficult. Movies, parties, and concerts don't involve food, so you can still hit the town for the night. Many ballparks have kosher concession stands, and all have veggie options, so he can still take you out to the ballgame.You can order veggie dishes at mainstream restaurants, and most major cities, including New York, Chicago, Miami, Toronto, Philadelphia, and L.A., have kosher pizza, Chinese, Italian, burger, steak, and fish joints. So you can still go out to eat. And every city has bars. So you can still get piss-drunk, go back to his place, and play with his kosher salami.

Born to shop? Kosher grocers and butcher shops will have the widest kosher selection. But if you don't want to schlep to one, many grocery chains (like Kroger, Ralph's, Jewel, Albertson's, Vons, Publix, Shaws, ShopRite, and Winn-Dixie) and specialty food stores (like Whole Foods, Costco, and Trader Joe's) shelve kosher brands or have designated kosher aisles. Some carry prepackaged kosher meat from companies like Hebrew National, Empire, and Aaron's Best. Who knew you could grab kosher ground chuck while picking up a bottle of Two Buck Chuck?