ain't that the all-time truth? I have tried to "sex up" (as the Brits now say) our high holiday cuisine to somewhat disastrous effects ... for example, the time I spent days preparing gravlax with a honey-mustard dill sauce on pumpernickle ( am I channeling Marcus Samuelsson??) only to hear, "Where's the gefilte fish and horseradish? It's not the same!" ... I cringe at my family's lack of gastronomic adventurousness ... but then it's always at that precise time that the voices in my head begin singing to me "Tradition!" in Tevye's voice, with the full orchestration from the soundtrack, no less ........ or the time I foolishly substituted an exquisite potage with delicate quenelles only to be brusquely chided by the folks, "Where's our chicken soup with matzo balls??" I shrug my shoulders, wipe my tears, and think, "culinary Neanderthals all ... perhaps I was adopted and have the real DNA of Brillat-Savarin..." .... but, that said, this year I will drag out my usual brisket, fully accompanied by the heavenly hosts of garlic and onion, and the requisite potato kugel and tsimmes, heavy honeycake, and my amassed throng, yearning to eat their usual Vilnaesque cuisine, will "Ooooh and ahhh" rather than kissing their fingertips and acclaiming my newly acquired culinary abilities ... but then who am I to challenge tradition at such a holy time of year???