The hard boiled egg
Man, that seder last night had legs. There was a 14-year old aspiring rabinnical student who would not speed-mumble through the long bits.
When it is 1AM and they are still singing "Ki lo na-eh, ki lo ya-eh" you begin to crumble matzoh into fine crumbs between your fingers in agitation.
I don't even try to stay away from bread anymore. This morning, Chris and I went for empanadas. Not even a flicker of guilt, I tell you, as I bit into to the flakey leavened pastry.
The only part of the seder I will never ever be able to handle is the hard boiled egg in salt water bit. UGH! I have a gag reflex when eggs are served. I get up and stand in the kitchen until the horrid scene is over. Almost as bad as the smell is the face people make as they are shaping their mouths into hideous "O"'s in order to pack the farty little embriotic sac into their mouths.
To my credit, I avoided all political arguments at the passover table. Well, almost. When we talked about the reason behind all the ten plagues that hit the Egyptians, our host said it was like God's "Shock and Awe" campaign.
I said everthing up until the slaying of the first born was like the UN weapons inspectors, weakening them so that they could not put up any more resistance.
I think my mother kicked me under the table at this point.