Ilene Paley (Photo by Dina Weinstein)
It’s 4 in the afternoon on a recent Tuesday, and Ilene Paley has been on her feet in the kitchen of the Weinstein Jewish Community Center since early morning. On the menu: salmon, Persian-style rice with saffron and almonds, Moroccan-style carrots with cumin and parsley, and, for dessert, baklava and kataifi. As Paley reviews her order checklist with a delivery man who has driven all the way from Atlanta with ingredients for an event later in the week, it’s clear that the day has exacted its toll.
Long hours are common to chefs, but Paley isn’t the head of this kitchen — that distinction belongs to Chef Yossi Goel. She’s not even second in command. So what’s she doing putting in these kinds of hours in a kitchen?
Paley is what is known as a mashgiach (pronounced mash-GEE-ahkh], an essential presence any time meals are prepared for kosher-keeping diners.
It is the mashgiach’s job to ensure that the kitchen meets the highest levels of kashrut, the body of dietary laws prescribed by Jewish oral law.
Separation of meat and dairy is the least of it. Much of the inspection work consists of minding the tiniest of details. It is not at all uncommon for mashgiachs to ask a chef to triple- or quadruple-wash leaves of lettuce, so as to be absolutely certain that there are no tiny bugs lurking in the folds (in effect, turning a non-meat dish into one with meat).
It’s a role the 74-year-old great-grandmother has filled — with no small amount of pride and honor — for the past 13 years.
“People depend on my standard of kashrut and trust what I do,” Paley says.
Jews trace their ancestry back 5,777 years. For most of that time, a female mashgiach would have been unheard of.
But times are changing. Paley is part of a growing cadre of women who are taking on a role that, in the words of the Baltimore-based Star-K board, which certifies those who would serve in this capacity, has often been “typecast as an old man with a beard sitting in a chair.” The board’s website acknowledges the dawn of a “new-age” mashgiach, one who must relate to the kitchen and serving staff with diplomacy and grace, and who must seek to become a respected member of the team.
“Being a mashgiach is work,” says the tireless septuagenarian. “I even do dishes. I like to help. I can’t sit my tuchus down.”
A typical day begins early in the morning, at either the JCC or her congregation, Keneseth Beth Israel (KBI), and sometimes at both.
A mashgiach is required to unlock the kosher kitchens whenever food is prepared, to turn on the ovens and also to be present during the entire time a meal is made.
Richmond Jewish Federation counts 10,000 Jews in greater Richmond, with six Jewish congregations. Of these, KBI maintains the most rigorous levels of kashrut. Paley voluntarily prepares the synagogue’s kiddush, the snack after Saturday services, and se’uda shlishit, the light meal that often accompanies a lecture on Saturday afternoon.
Rabbi Dovid Asher praises her reliability, her hard work and her temperament, all of which, he says, make her ideal for her job.
“She knows when to push back and when to relax,” he says.
Paley is not just a relative anomaly in the world of her profession. She is an anomaly in Richmond society, a Northern Jew who has not shaken her Bronx accent.
She didn’t grow up religious. Far from it. Her sons became increasingly more devout as teenagers, and she was forced to adapt.
She and her family moved to Richmond in 1971 when her husband, Marvin, took a job with American Tobacco.
Being a mashgiach, she says, was the furthest thing from her mind, even as she found herself becoming enmeshed in the restaurant world in the wake of a son’s stillborn death.
“I wouldn’t want to sit behind a desk,” she says, describing a succession of dining industry jobs over three decades. She landed her current position almost by chance, though in hindsight it seems practically inevitable.
When the former rabbi at KBI left, he handed her the keys and put her in charge of the kitchen, declaring her the most knowledgeable member.
By that time, she already had met most of the requirements for the role. She maintained a strictly kosher kitchen in her home and also observed the laws of the Sabbath.
And now, thanks to a recent summer of intensive study, she has earned her certification from Star-K — and legitimacy as an official mashgiach.
On a recent Thursday morning, the smell of brisket wafts across the parking lot of KBI. In the narrow synagogue kitchen, Paley is busy chopping cucumbers.
Her legs are hurting, she says, and she looks tired, but she continues to work.
She has to. There are two upcoming meals to plan for — an organization’s shabbat dinner in the city, and another shabbat dinner for the William & Mary Hillel, in Williamsburg. Then come the High Holy Days, with their many attendant feasts.
As soon as Yom Kippur ends Paley will turn her attention to helping to plan the popular Jewish Food Festival in January, which typically draws a crowd of about 10,000 people to the JCC.
And after that? There will still be many, many bar mitzvahs and weddings, says Paley, as six pans of brisket prepared with her Aunt Evelyn’s recipe of onion soup mix, ginger ale and ketchup emerge from the oven, smelling wonderful.
“I’m not ready to stop. My husband thinks I should. He thinks I work too hard. But I like it.”
At this point, it would be almost unthinkable to have an event at the JCC and not see her. Aside from Rabbi Asher, no one is more synonymous with this institution.
And Asher is not so sure that she isn’t more of a presence. “She’s the gatekeeper,” he says, “and the face of the organization.”
Never miss a Sunday Story: Sign up for the newsletter, and we’ll drop a fresh read into your inbox at the start of each week. To keep up with the latest posts, search for the hashtag #SundayStory on Twitter and Facebook.
