Matzohs

One Passover spent in Paris, I ate thick matzoh, soft and crumbly as a cookie. In shops and restaurants in both the old ghetto area in the Marais and the newer North African—Jewish neighborhood surrounding the rue des Richers in the ninth arrondissement, I came across sweet varieties as well, prepared with wine, orange flower water, and sugar, tasting like exotic tea biscuits. They were, the boxes revealed, made from a secret family recipe from Oran, Algeria.