As so many of you know, Alan would host these meals about twice a month. As many of you also know, getting 10-12 New Yorkers to show up to anything is a herculean task. I once tried inviting people to a meal and Alan corrected me: you just can’t send a group email engineering who-would-be-great-to-meet-who. Doesn’t work. He knows. Individual emails. Very casual. Don’t mention the Jewish ritual thing, just say Fri night. Invite interesting people, some standbys, always new folks, too. If someone bites, send the address and time. If they don't, try again. And again. Alan must have invited two or three for each that showed up, which means he invited forty to sixty people every month for years. When I entered the picture, he begrudgingly agreed to limit the table to the 6-8 that wouldn’t overwhelm me. And though he always assumed he'd do the cooking himself, he happily accepted whenever I offered to be responsible for food. (The big secret is that…yes-I-know...-I’m-sorry…I never really liked The Alan Special…)

 

Alan learned to cook in dorms—first getting everything he could out of a microwave at Cromem at Stanford, then venturing to hang out with the many Indian students as they gathered and ate together at the Technion in Haifa. There Alan brought in his own kosher pots and ingredients and was tutored on toasting spices and given the cookbook whose recipes subsequently became The Alan Special (attached, if you want to attempt the okra yourself).

 

So, to honor Alan’s memory and to continue to bring forth the mitzvah of hospitality that he so embodied, host a dinner. Pick a week; invite someone you wouldn’t have otherwise or don’t really know. Cook; cater; corral your guests into providing the food themselves. Whatever works. If Shabbat is a relevant frame for you, do kiddush and have your meal on Friday or Saturday. If not, any day is just fine. Tell a story about Alan at your table.  

 

As we sing on Friday night, welcoming in that which accompanies us on the sabbath: