Fig Leaves It was the leaves of the fig that covered them in their nakedness, hiding the shame of their opened eyes. So close they were, those happy leaves, to the source of pain and pleasure to follow expulsion from the garden. Perhaps it is thus why the fig itself —when opened—spreads to receive the tongue that delights in exploration. Luscious fruit, open to willing mouths, so full of transient solace, momentary bliss, opening and closing to the curious. Chreyn for Max Schwartz Grandfather liked white horseradish chreyn, on his gefilte fis because it was strong like the Limburger cheese he spread on the large oval slice of pumpernickel he covered with heavy sweet cream thick from the top of the tin milkcan delivered at predawn to the grocery store he opened at the crack of every morning. Horseradish, after all, is just a weed whose roots in the earth you may, by...