The driver shuts the taxi door behind me and we head towards the Brooklyn Bridge. It is the morning of the most important day of the week, and I’ve remembered to wear a skirt. I might disregard the weekly holy day on my own non-kosher turf, but I want to make sure to respect my Modern Orthodox relatives on theirs. I am making the trip to watch my aunt Sara* prepare Shabbat dinner. As a cooking teacher and food writer, I want to learn exactly how she works her wonders in the kitchen.