It’s called the bread of affliction, but with a little butter and salt, you don’t even miss challah — for a week, anyway. 

A real treat I used to enjoy was matzah, fried or out-of-the-box, with Manischewitz cherry jelly. I didn’t even eat cherry jelly the rest of the year. But at Passover, it was perfect. My friends and I have mourned its absence in recent years, and I know we are not alone.

Yes, there is an Israeli brand of jelly that you can feel good about buying, and it’s not too bad. But it’s not the same, either. One big difference: consistency. The challenge of eating matzah with jelly is to get it into your mouth before the matzo breaks and the jelly falls on your shirt. Because of the less juicy consistency of these new cherry jellies, you might come through neater, but that’s the only plus.

Now, this Passover, after a few years of uncertainty, I have come to terms with the loss of another traditional treat: candy fruit slices. What’s wrong with them? I’ll tell you: Look at them! 

One brand displays the familiar rows behind a cellophane window besmeared with gobs of sugar. This is wrong. Fruit slices require only a restrained, adult amount of sprinkle. Also, the new colors are too deep and too dull. I’ve bought these — once. 

Then there are the ones that look pretty. They are arranged in a neat pastel spiral. They are truly a pale version of the ones we used to get. Their colors are too delicate, their consistency too soft. How do I know? I bought a box and opened it before Passover. I am on to these kinds of tricks, so before I offered this supposed confection to anyone, I had my work to do. I tasted. I threw away. 

When I was away at school, I remember smiling as I opened the package of jellied fruit slices my mom sent. I have carried on that tradition, sending fruit slices to my out-of-town kids. A simple reminder of the holiday, though not mentioned in the Hagaddah, those cheery candies were on every seder table. Not mine, anymore. 

Why are these foods disappearing? Is it a plot? Is it a plague to remind us that Passover is not all about Manischewitz? Do we just chalk it up to one of life’s mysteries like the sound of one hand clapping?

Sadly, that hand won’t be as sticky or as tasty as I remember.