The Last Supper

The night before Passover, ie tonight, and the night Passover goes out, in 7 days' time (8 if you were brought up taking your Diaspora status extra seriously) are marked in the same way in my household: with pizza and beer. It's like we have to gorge on the things shortly to be forbidden to us for a princely 7 days. And frankly if you clock the disgraceful cost of some specially labelled Passover products, you might be missing out on a whole lot more than pizza for the next week. Ten quid for a box of biscuits? All in a day's ripoff at your local Passover food outlet. Of course for the more enterprising (or bloody minded), there are recipes for cakes, biscuits and even rolls, made with cake meal or potato flour. Me, I prefer simple abstinence. If it weren't for the cholesterol rocketing effect of over consumption of the ritual boiled egg,Passover would probably rank as the healthiest week of my year. Anyway. Pizza, and lots of it. We call around. Ask is booked up. Prezzo is full. Pizza Express has a queue. Even Dominoes has a 1 hour wait for takeout. I see we are not the only family indulging in a last minute dough-binge. All over London Passover-observers are having a final fling with raising agents.