We’ve all been there, and it’s not a fun place to be. It’s that point of desperation on the telephone when you’ve tried—and failed—to navigate an online company phone tree. All you wanted was to order a new pair of sneakers for your child. Something went haywire—you pressed the wrong button?—and now you’re about to get a whole shipment of sneakers. You’re reduced to shouting “operator!” Trouble is, no one is listening.

We know how widespread this customer service crisis is—because you, our Challah Connection customers, thank us profusely for just doing our job. When I tell you that we get emails like this everyday, I am not exaggerating:

“I just want to thank you for your help during this difficult time for my friend and her family. I do a lot of online shopping and I have never had such courteous, thoughtful service. I am truly impressed and will definitely use your site in the future. I just pray that it is for a happy occasion. I hope I can rate your service on the web because it is outstanding.”

I really needed this gift fast ….. I appreciate your help in making it happen.”

I have to confess—we love doing our job! We love talking to you, 9 to 6, every day. But thank you for all the kudos! We’re glowing! Now with Valentine’s Day and Purim this month, I look forward to hearing from many of you as you shop for Shalah Manot and Purim gifts for friends, family, colleagues, college kids and more.

But this is what I don’t understand: How is it that our terrific service is so rare? Doesn’t it make good business sense to practice basic customer service skills such as answering the phone, or returning a call at the promised time, or shipping an order as the customer placed it? I know you’ll say that it’s the recession and that companies have cut back. My response is that we lived through the same recession and as a matter of fact our company grew significantly last year. Why? Because 1) we do what we promise 2) our customers come back to us because they know we will and 3) if we make a mistake (which we do as we are only human) we apologize and quickly make it right. Call me a romantic idealist, but I don’t get why every company doesn’t do as we do. It’s just good business.

Now that my rant is complete, let me remind you that we are here for you. No need to “press one” when you’re mourning a loss, rejoicing at the birth of a baby, honoring a colleague, or reminding your college student how much she is loved. We may never understand why the other online companies treat their customers so shabbily but rest assured, we will pick up the phone.

My son Harry is a high school senior and is applying to college. He specifically wants to go to art school. Unlike the rest of the family, he is an incredible artist. All but one of the schools he’s applying to require a portfolio of artwork. This one, Parsons School of Design in NY requires what they call, “The Parsons Challenge”. Basically, this exercise asks the applicant to observe some everyday aspect of their lives that has been overlooked and then to interpret it both visually and in written statements.

Well, it turns out that Harry is doing something that has to do with me, Challah Connection and baking—I guess. He hasn’t told me exactly what aspect of “me” he is focusing on but needless to say, I’m flattered that he feels I’m something of value that’s been unduly overlooked.

For the Challenge, he needs to take pictures of me baking challah. This past Saturday, was finally the day. However, instead of challah he approved a cinnamon bread recipe that we all really love and is much quicker then challah as it doesn’t require a sponge (45 minutes) or 2 risings and then a third after the braiding. It was a beautiful day and I wanted to go for a long walk in the frigid, but sunny weather. Being stuck in the kitchen all day hadn’t been my plan.

Well, I got the bread started and then my 2 others were beckoning me to make them French toast. It was a perfect moment to teach them how and to give them my favorite French toast recipe (key ingredients: challah, egg, milk, cinnamon, vanilla. Key cooking features: soak the challah REALLY well and saute in combination of butter and canola oil). They did a great job. Sam is now ready to go back to school and cook challah French toast for all of his housemates.

Then, the best laid plans: I took on 2 other cooking projects since I had the ingredients and wanted to use them before they went bad. Roasted root vegetables (just cut them up, place on cookie sheet, drizzle with olive oil, kosher salt & pepper. Roast till done.) and cabbage and noodles (in Arthur Schwartz’s Jewish Home Cooking) were next on my list. This was a great day of cooking, teaching my boys and a great walk with Sophie, the dog.

What wasn’t planned to be a cooking day turned out to be a great one!

This post comes courtesy of Sherry, our Customer Service Director, who was so moved by her mother’s generosity that she decided to contribute a post about it:

Chanukah is my mother’s thing. Okay, maybe not Chanukah, per se, but shopping. She starts her Chanukah shopping the day after Christmas, when things go on sale, and then she squirrels them away in a closet until the following winter. After all, she loves shopping so much (and only sale shopping), she makes it a point to buy 8 Chanukah presents for each of us – my dad, my brother, his wife, his daughter, my husband, each of my daughters, and me. That makes 64 presents in all. While we try to convince her that her largess is unnecessary, my dad says to leave her alone – she’s happy, she’s leaving him alone, and it doesn’t matter what we say – she’s going to do it anyway.

While my mother loves to shop, she is also extremely thoughtful and kind. About six years ago, she had a brilliant idea. One of the presents she gives my girls each year is a poem she wrote called “Tzedakah” (Hebrew for “charity”). The poem reads:

“You have so many things, my dear
While others live in want and fear
So here’s a gift to give away
To brighten someone else’s day.

Please go out and choose a toy
For some poor little girl or boy.
Your loving heart will show you care
When your good fortune you can share.”

Along with the poem, she gives each girl $15 in cash with which to shop for charitable gifts. Since my older daughter Halley was a little girl, we would take her and her $15 to Toys ‘R Us. She would carefully walk through the aisles, searching for the perfect gifts. Halley made a point of looking for things that were on sale so she could buy more than one item. She would also look for things for both boys and girls, and across age ranges. If she found she had change after paying, she would go back into the aisles and buy one more Matchbox car, or whatever she could, so as not to “cheat” the recipient children. Very unlike her little sister Abigail, who always found one item that she thought was really cool and dropped her $15 on that. Over the years, we have begun matching the amount the kids get from Grandma & Grandpa, and now they even take money out of their piggy banks so they have more to spend.

This year, with the economy as challenging as it is, we thought we should spend our Tzedakah money on food for the local food pantry. Abigail, now eight, said, “After all, Mom, food is a necessity. Toys are not.” And while Halley agrees, she still thinks it is very important to bring smiles to children’s faces. So I think this year we will be doing some of each – food to nourish the body, and toys to nourish the joyous souls of children.

One of my favorite tenets of Judaism is the concept of Tikkun Olam, or “Repairing the World.” This concept states that it is the responsibility of every Jew to help make the world a better place. While I’m not sure my mother ever considered her Tzedakah gift an act of Tikkun Olam, I certainly do. My girls, through the generosity of their grandparents and themselves, are making the world a better place – one child, one gift, and one Chanukah at a time. And nothing makes me prouder.

In that spirit, I wish you a Chanukah that will not only bring you all the goodness you deserve but will also restore some goodness to the world. Best, Sherry

Raising three sons is not unlike living on the Galapagos Islands–you know–where Darwin’s Survival of the Fittest is demonstrated best? Those finches with the really sharp beaks are a whole lot better at cracking open nuts than their round-beaked cousins.

Sometimes the competition to survive in our household was akin to that. Instead of beaks, picture head locks and other wrestling games that required the weakest to scream “uncle” repeatedly.

So I wasn’t all that surprised–even on the day after Thanksgiving –that the usual competitive urges were being demonstrated for my benefit. Now, instead of head locks, there was a bit of verbal jousting going on as we sat around the table eating delicious leftovers. My youngest son Mike rubbed it in to my oldest son Sam that he, Sam wouldn’t be home for the first night of Hanukkah. Sam, Mike explained, would miss out on the following:

1. Mom’s challah stuffing
2. Harry’s crispy Golden Latkes complete with home-made apple sauce and cold, delicious sour cream.
3. Roasted Chicken
4.blue and white cookies.
5. Gelt
6. The first night gift.

“Too bad for you,” Mike said through a mouthful of leftover Thanksgiving turkey. “Aren’t you going to be taking finals that week?”

Sam nodded glumly.

“All the more for me,” Harry chimed in. “Mmmm, I can’t wait to hog down some latkes. Last year I think I set a record.”

My husband Josh said, “I think you made it to 12. It was kind of horrifying to watch.”

“I can’t help it if I appreciate my own cooking,” Harry protested, helping himself to more cranberry sauce.  It was true; Harry had become an expert latke maker, cooking golden brown latkes to perfection in an enormous frying pan given to our family by none other than my mom, Becky Mark.

Sam, 19 years old and usually high up there on the whole Survival of The Fittest thing, was looking pretty upset.

It was time for an intervention.

“Actually, Mike, Harry…I happen to have a lot of great Hanukkah presents for college students. And I’m pretty sure Sam will be getting something in the mail. Cookies to keep his energy up while he studies, plus lots of other goodies to help him celebrate.”

Sam instantly brightened.

“Thanks, Mom.”

I still hadn’t delivered my coup de grace. “And Sam, remember you mentioned your hillel was having a Chanukah party? We’re actually sending blue and white cookies for it. And challah.”

“Cool!”

Mike looked up from his plate. “Mom! There’s not going to be enough left for us.”

I smiled sweetly at him, my round-beaked finch. “Well, Sam is out there on his own. We have to make sure he’s taken care of.”

It was Mike’s turn to look sad.

I relented. “But there are plenty of Chanukah goodies for everyone.”  

It was Westport, after all, not The Galapagos Islands. We could do more than survive Chanukah. We could share the celebration, even hundreds of miles apart.

Happy Chanukah!

Jane

p.s. And sure enough, Sam headed back to college with a carload of challah and blue and white cookies!

My friend Erica was babbling into the phone.  Something about evil and December and a plot to drive people crazy.

“Erica,” I said. “How many cups of coffee have you had today?”

“Four, but that’s not the point.”

“Okay…well, why did you just say that you loathe the month of December?”

“Because…between my family, and my in-laws, and my office, and my husband’s office, and my kids’ and their friends, and my friends…I just got out a calculator and realized that I have to purchase 64 gifts for Hanukkah this year.”

“Wow.  Well, you don’t have to get really expensive stuff.”

“That’s only one issue.  It’s the combing of websites, it’s the clicking through order forms.  And then I finally order it, and the company wraps it in Christmas paper.  That’s why I’m calling you.  I thought, well, maybe I’ll just ask Challah Connection to send out 64 chocolate babkas.  Or 64 blue and white cookies.”

“Erica, we could do 64 babkas, 64 Hanukkah Candy Platters, whatever you want,” I said. “But don’t you want your gifts to be…you know…unique as the people you’re giving them to?”

“That’s too much to hope for.  Isn’t it?”

“What if I told you that I could send 8 nights of wrapped Chanukah gifts to one address for you and you’d only pay one shipping charge?”

“You have such a service?”

“Yes!”

“It’s a Chanukah miracle.”

“It’s just something Sherry and I thought of to help busy people–like us.”

“But I really only need to do 3 nights for my sister’s kids.”

“No problem.”

“You mean, I don’t have to run out and buy tape and wrapping paper and Hanukkah gelt and a menorah and something nice for my Aunt Betsy like maybe…oh, God, what can I get Aunt Betsy?”

“How about “A Treasury of Jewish Holiday Baking” wrapped and shipped for the first night?”

“She’ll love that.”

It was music to my ears.

Here’s to a stress-free Hanukkah!

Best,

Jane

Call it fate. Kismet. Serendipity. Divine Intervention. The day I met Elaine, I had just about given up on making new friends in my new town, Westport, Connecticut.

My husband, three sons, and I had just moved here from New York City, drawn by the good schools, numerous amenities, and the reputation Westport had as a town with a strong arts community. My sons were certainly thrilled with their schools and the friends they had made. My husband Josh liked living in a house, where he could retreat to his home office for a few moments of sanity–impossible with apartment living.

I was the only stick in the mud. I was friendly, outgoing, interested in other people. But I was used to the casual interactions of the city, meeting other working Moms on the playground, grabbing a quick cup of coffee. Westport was different. Playdates were planned weeks in advance, and conversations revolved around the intense sports culture. I was out of the loop for the first time in my life.

All that changed one day on the playground of of our preschool, Learning Community. My son Mike was climbing up the slide, closely followed by a strong, athetic looking, light-haired girl. They were chatting away.

“Is that your son?” I heard a woman say. “My daughter loves him,” she said. “I hate this whole planned playdate thing, but…”

To paraphrase a famous movie line, Elaine had me at “I hate playdates.” We talked and talked that day, discovering that our 5th grade boys, Sam and Misha were also good friends. Soon, Josh and I had dinner with Elaine and her husband George. We were a United Nations of backgrounds and interests and religions. A melting pot of Italian Catholic, Russian Orthodox, and Judaism; between the four of us, we had every Eastern European country covered, along with Italy.

Our friendship was cemented by a calendar of holidays. We were introduced to their wonderful traditions:the midnight Easter mass of George’s Russian Orthodox religion, the festivity of their Christmas, and the sheer pagan decadence of their New Years’ Eve party.

They, in turn, delighted in our holiday rituals. They came to my 3 sons’ Bar Mitzvahs, where they danced the hora. They came to our Erev Yom Kippur dinner, and our Break Fast. They have come to our seders, where Elaine’s mother delighted in my mother’s brisket, while George ate at least two bowls of piping hot matzo ball soup. That alone cemented my mother’s love for George.

Food has been a way to celebrate our differences and our similarities. Recently, friends hosted a 25th wedding anniversary for George and Elaine. I made stuffed cabbage and pierogi to honor Elaine’s Polish roots, and beet salad to honor George’s Russian tradition. Elaine’s 90-year old Polish mother pronounced my stuffed cabbage superior to her own! Whether or not this is true, I’m deeply honored by her compliment, and thrilled that in this shared recipe, Jews and Poles come together. Can–dare I ask–stuffed cabbage begin to heal the scars of history? I don’t need an answer for now, just Elaine’s mother enjoying it.

A deep and abiding friendship with our Catholic and Russian Orthodox friends has, I believe, taught my children a valuable lesson. From an early age, my Jewish children learned not mere tolerance, which is a good starting place for everyone, but a deep appreciation of others’ cultures and religions. They learned we’re all not so different. We all like stuffed cabbage.

It’s not just a family or personal message, but the message of my business, Challah Connection. Here at Challah Connection, I strongly believe that my customers are not just people like me. No, they’re Catholic and Buddhist and Russian Orthodox. They are in Idaho and Florida, California and Canada. They–we–come from all different places and beliefs. That’s what has made my company something I am deeply proud of. We’re not just a company that provides goods for nice Jewish people like ourselves. We’re a company that provides for the richly diverse world in which we are so lucky to live.

As we approach the holiday season of Hannukkah and Christmas, I look forward to lighting the candles of the menorah. I know that on at least one of those nights, Elaine and George will be by my side, spinning a dreidel, sampling a latke, learning a few Yiddish words.

Soon after, I will marvel at the star on the very top of their Christmas tree.

Best,

Jane

I had spent the day weighing the merits of this kosher blue and white cookie over that, this Hanukkah gelt over that, this quality wooden dreidel over that fun plastic pink one.

I had come up with a really great Hanukkah basket , one that my mother would be proud of. It was eleven p.m., a time for the quiet contemplation of “CSI.” My husband Josh had just plunked down next to me with a bowl of popcorn. Ready, set…relax.
The phone rang. It was my friend Mark, frantic.
“Listen,” he said. “I’m in a bind. I’m in charge of a fundraising event.”
“That’s great.”
“Can you prepare 12 kosher gift baskets by seven a.m. tomorrow?”
“Twelve?”
“Well, some people at a synagogue need to be thanked for great work. By tomorrow.”
“Seven a.m.?” I said. “You meant p.m., right?”
“Well, no. Seven a.m. You see…”
I cleared my throat. “Never mind.”
Mark is a party planner and a dear friend, but I had been drawn into his mishegas before. For those of you who don’t speak Yiddish, mishegas is a very handy word. It means ‘craziness’ or ‘crazy behavior.’

Time and time again, Mark had “situations.” He needed 500 rugelach bags for a bris by…tomorrow. He needed twelve fragrant loaves of home-baked babka for a bridal shower by…today.

“They specifically asked for Challah Connection kosher gift baskets,” he wheedled. And possibly lied.

“Can you pick them up?” I asked him grumpily.

“I’ll see you at seven.”

Don’t get me wrong. Mark is very good at what he does. But when he doesn’t know how to say “no.” He wants to give his customers everything they ask for, and then some. It doesn’t matter to him if they just remembered that Aunt Florence adores a good chocolate babka.

I hung up the phone with Mark and looked longingly at the TV screen for a moment. There was somebody chasing somebody else across the screen, guns drawn.

Then it hit me. It wasn’t that Mark didn’t know how to say “no.” It wasn’t that 25 gift baskets would make or break Mark’s career.

It was that saying “yes” to the 12 people who needed to be thanked at the synagogue felt good to Mark. It felt good to be a yes-sayer, to give an affirmative answer to someone who is expecting a “no.” Maybe “yes” was like a chain. Mark said yes to the synagogue, and I said yes to Mark. Who knows? Maybe a “yes” was heading towards me.

May today contain a yes,

Jane

My typical post-rising morning routine is boil water for my steel cut oats (yes, every single day), turn on my computer to check email, pour a cup of coffee and sit down with the New York Times (paper version, thank you). Wednesday is my favorite NYTimes day because it includes the Dining In section and since I am a foodie, this is exciting reading for me.

Today there was an article about a blog called Cake Wrecks; When Professional Cakes Go Horribly, Hysterically Wrong. The blog features pictures of cakes that have gone awry–like this one. Read it carefully–see the problem? Oy Vey.

Here’s another, which has a missing word problem.

Who would think a cottage industry would be born based on cakes gone awry. This was an amusing way to start my day!

Ugh! There are lots of household tasks that do not make my list of “Top 10 Things To Do.” Right up top is cleaning the house. Followed closely by planning dinner EVERY day for my family. (I don’t mind the cooking part, it’s the “What’s for dinner?” question running through my head that puts me on edge.)

Right behind those two is PACKING – for a vacation, a business trip, or worse, CAMP. How am I – a total organizational control-freak – supposed to pack everything my kid could possibly need over the next month? Shorts, t-shirts, underwear, swimsuits – no problem. Sunscreen? How many bottles? Bug spray? Is it buggy in Maine? How would I know? A nice outfit? And the ever-plaguing question – which shoes should we pack? How many pairs? How much money is going to be spent when they all come back trashed and I have to go buy all new shoes and clothes in August? And HOW am I going to get it all washed, dried, folded, labeled, and packed into two duffle bags, BY SATURDAY MORNING???

Okay – deep breath. For starters, I find that it is more fun to think about what I am going to send my kid while she’s AT camp – cute note cards, care packages, small snack items, things to make her smile (but not homesick). Of course, the first place I “shop” is on our own Challah Connection website. I’ve already put aside the Camp Bunk Box of Questions.
Surely a bag of black and white cookies and rugelach will be making its way to Maine this summer. And as for other fun things, I always “shop” our DIY (Do-It-Yourself Basket) department.

How about some fun ways to communicate with my kid? I remember a few special ways my mom used to write to me at camp. There was the balloon letter – she would blow it up at home, write her letter on it in permanent marker, deflate it, and stick it in an envelope. I had to blow it up to read it. There was also the circular letter – she would start writing at the outside of the page and then keep turning the paper so the words made a huge maze-like circle (kind of like those huge twisted lollipops on a stick). Those are the two I remember most clearly (and it feels like it was a VERY LONG TIME AGO).

Do you have any good tips for how to communicate with kids at camp, or great camp care package ideas? I’d love to hear them!

Father’s Day is almost here, and we are so excited about some new products we have created! When we get a little goofy, we head over to the warehouse and try out new combinations of products to see what we think might work well together. This summer we are definitely in a baseball frame of mind!

When we came across these awesome specialty display baseballs, we couldn’t help but think of warm summer days spent in the ballpark watching a live game – whether it’s the Majors (local Yankees, Mets, and Red Sox) or our local minor-league team (the wonderful Bridgeport (CT) Bluefish). Other than watching the game, we think the best thing about being at the stadium is…beer and peanuts!

So putting our wonderful He’Brew Jewbilation 20 oz. kosher beer together with a bag of delicious, kosher salted peanuts-in-the-shell was a no-brainer! Add our adorable Albert Einstein (our favorite Jewish professor) doll, and you’ve got One Nutty Professor

These items, and all of the wonderful offerings on Challah Connection, make terrific kosher gifts – for Father’s Day and any day!

I know my dad is used to getting late cards and gifts from me (since I am always busy getting other people’s gifts sent on time!) – how about yours?