One Turkey Vs. A Lifetime Of Shabbos

By Malkie Gordon Hirsch Magence

You can tell by the ridiculous amount of hype that’s out there about this one turkey dinner that comes once a year that all these pundits have never—ever—made a Shabbos dinner. Not once. And definitely not week after week, year after year.

There are entire months of TV specials, cooking shows, listicles, and panic-driven magazine spreads devoted to cracking the code of time management for the “perfect” Thanksgiving dinner. And every year, I sit there watching the shows and reading the articles about roasting the bird, blanching some string beans, and assembling a pie, and I can’t help but wonder if we have somehow failed humanity by not showing them how the average Orthodox Jewish woman puts it all together week after week.

I mean, where are the reality shows documenting how Jewish moms make a homemade dinner every single night of the week in addition to the weekly marathon sprint known as Shabbos cooking?

Where is the dramatic music montage for the occasional three-day yom tov, when we cook and bake like we’re running an actual restaurant?

Except it’s all free and we don’t get tips, which definitely requires a discussion.

Ask any woman raised in the Orthodox Jewish world and she can recite recipes, cooking methods, shortcuts, emergency backups, and substitutions like she’s a contestant on a kosher version of “Top Chef.” She knows direct heat vs. indirect heat, which wood gives the best smoke, why brining changes everything, how to sous vide and reverse-sear, and what to do with a chicken that gives you the side-eye.

And then there’s the baking.

Every Orthodox Jewish woman has an innate knowledge of how to bake challah, cakes, breads, babkas, and cookies. And even if she’s not a baker, she knows exactly where to buy the best.

We know the best food scales, processors, immersion blenders, and mandolins.

Walk into a kosher kitchen and you’ll find more small appliances than some restaurants: air fryers, rice cookers, pressure cookers, woks, griddles, sheet pans, and even Betty Crockers!

And don’t forget the Kevlar gloves so there aren’t any field trips to urgent care centers for stitches.

And don’t get me started on our storage skills.

We will find a nook, a cranny, or a newly invented crevice to stash it all.

That is talent.

Honestly? Drop any of us into any commercial kitchen, hand us an apron, and we’d be fine.

But why?

Why do we value this kind of domestic work?

Why make ourselves crazy when everything can be bought ready-made?

I’ll tell you why: because here in the Jewish world, the value we place on the family unit is unmatched.

We nurture our children in so many ways, through presence, through conversation, and yes, through the food we prepare for them. The kitchen is the center of the home; it’s where we gather after long school days, even if everyone trickles in at different times. When kids walk in and see dinner waiting, it’s not just noodles or soup or chicken on the counter. They see the love, the care, the countless invisible acts that went into creating that meal.

On Shabbos, it’s where we spend time—real time—without our phones, distractions, or the noise of the week. It’s where we talk, laugh, snack, and create memories that stick.

And as the matriarchs, the emotional engines of our homes, we feed our people when they’re happy, sad, exhausted, overwhelmed, or in the mood to celebrate.

We feed them because it’s how we show our love.

People love to tell me that everything I do in the kitchen must be effortless because I enjoy it. And I always disagree. I don’t love peeling eight cloves of garlic or washing eighteen bowls, or wiping flour off the walls. Cooking is a messy, tedious, time-consuming task.

But I do love the reaction at the table.

I love watching people love the food I made for them.

That’s my love language. That’s my expression.

So let the world panic about one turkey at one dinner. Let them write think pieces about mashed potatoes. We’ll be over here doing what we always do: feeding families, creating memories, and running kitchens that would intimidate most professionals.

Honestly? Thanksgiving wishes it could be Shabbos.

And if anyone still doubts it? Wake me when you’ve juggled two soups, three mains, four sides, a cholent, and a kugel while refereeing homework and finding someone’s missing shoe. n

Malkie Gordon Hirsch Magence is a native of the Five Towns community, a mom of 5, a writer, and a social media influencer.