One night, my friend Josh was insisting that keeping kosher cutlery and dishware is actually a very easy task. Our other friend Hao and I were nodding along until he exclaimed “This is why you only have two plates!”
“Two plates?” I clarified, distracted from the task of subtly trying to pick out a hair from my hand. Hao sat up from where I’d stacked pillows from him, sending them all to the ground. “Like you only have two plates?”
“Uh, yeah,” Josh shook his head like I was stupid. (And to be honest I am but for reasons separate from this conversation. ) “Two plates. Two forks. Two knives. That’s all you need for your life.”
Hao and I stared at each other. We shared a look encompassing what I can only describe as complete horror, comprehension, and the tiny feeling of being a bit impressed.
Josh pointed to the two cupboards in his tiny student kitchen, side by side. “That’s my dairy one,” He pointed to the left. “That’s my meat one,”
“Ha, ha.” Hao said, still a bit horrified. “Your meat”
We approached the cabinets tentatively. I can’t describe to you how hilarious it is to open them side by side and just in each of them, see a singular plate, fork and knife sitting forlorn like lonely soldiers.
“I really, really” Josh insisted as we turned to stare at him in wonder. “Don’t see what the big deal is.”
