Behold, The Power of Matza

A wise man once said: “man doth not live by bread only.” (Deuteronomy 8: 2-3).

Another wise man once said “man shall not live on bread alone” (Matthew 4:4 and Luke 4:4)

And for that reason, the Jewish people invented matza.

Ahh, matza: the delectably brittle flat bread that dries our mouths and sprays bread shrapnel in all conceivable directions for one week each year as we remember our ancestors’ escape from slavery and exodus from Egypt during the Jewish holiday of Passover.

Some say it was designed brilliantly for its delectable taste and superior nutrition, while others argue that it was adopted by coincidence and necessity for the ease with which it is made and its almost supernatural resistance to spoiling. Regardless of which side of the debate you choose, the fact remains that matza sustained the 12 Tribes of Israel as they fled Pharaoh’s army.

Not only was it great as the earliest power-food for very active multitudes—consider running from the Egyptian army the predecessor to the Amazing Race—the matza has survived as the premier kosher-for-Passover sports nutrition. Some have even called our unleavened loaves Rabbi-Grain Power Bars (some meaning me).

Once you see what a great venue two matzas make for a truly energizing sandwich, you’ll find it no surprise that Harvard’s greatest Jewish student athletes scarf them down like they’re…um…drier, less salty, saltines.

Great Jewish athletes throughout the generations have known that even though we are remembering an exodus, the show must go on.

Take for example the doubles duo of Harvard tennis co-captains Scott Denenberg and Gideon Valkin. This one-two punch delivers some extra ‘umph’ during Passover thanks to matza.

“It’s really funny to go to pre-meal dinners with the team,” Valkin said. “Everyone’s carbo-loading, and Scott and I are eating matza and potatoes.”

He added that, “Sometimes, at the end of the week, you get a bit tired.”

Denenberg recalled the Passover of his freshman year, when two matches toward the end of Passover followed by a practice proved a bit more than matza could support.

“We almost collapsed,” said Denenberg.

Perhaps the burden of remembering the past was too heavy.

Given matza’s tendency to fiercely resist being sufficiently eaten, those who live the unleavened life (not quite the Miller High Life) have to find ways to part the sea of blandness to arrive at the promised land of taste.

“You can only eat so much matza because it begins to taste like cardboard,” Denenberg notes.

That’s why he creates a HUDS matza pizza using organic pasta sauce and cheese, because after all “matza tastes like crust.”

Valkin, for his part, uses peanut butter to symbolize the mortar our fathers used to build the pyramids, creating a “PB-and-matza or PBJ-and-matza,” to fend off the forty-years-march lethargy.

Those of you keeping tabs on kashrut will note that despite being Ashkenazic, Valkin uses the traditional Sephardic interpretation of the Passover traditions. Harvard football standout Mike Berg also takes this broader view, and boasts of having imparted his love for the PBJ-and-M to his roommates.

I personally advocate the matza cereal, though its preparation requires an athletic crumbling motion that just not everyone can master at first. It’s not for the faint of wrist.

Another very wise man and avid tennis athlete—though he strongly denies rumors that he can hold his own against former Harvard tennis great James Blake—our very own dean Benedict H. Gross ’71, keeps a box on hand in University Hall to feed the body and the mind.

“There’s nothing better than a good matza with butter and salt,” the Dean said.

How’s that for not on bread alone?

—Staff Writer Johnathan B. Steinman can be reached at steinman@fas.harvard.edu