Every year was the same: Me, probably looking ridiculous dressed up as a princess or a fairy, scowling as I tore into pastry after pastry. It must have been quite a sight, because finally after five or six years, the Rabbi’s wife decided she was fed up with my pouting. She chose me to play Esther in the Purim Shpiel, a play version of the story, which goes a like this: “A triangular hat-wearing anti-semite name Haman (boo!) tried to kill all the Persian Jews and was stopped by Queen Esther (woo!), who was secretly a Jew, and her cousin Mordechai (woo!).” It is an interactive event; whenever you hear the name Haman you boo, and when you hear the names of the good guys, you cheer. As a kid, you are told the hamantaschen’s distinct shape comes from Haman’s three-cornered hat, but like most Jewish things, it is loaded with symbolism.