Life Is Too Short Not To.

We have a headache. Which is to be expected, considering that less than twenty-four hours ago, we consumed a MASTERFUL AND GENIUS SEVEN-COURSE MEAL WITH WINE PAIRINGS. No, we didn't go to some schmancy Zagat-touted restaurant. This event of worldwide importance transpired at the homey abode of Simon's lovely sis-in-law Jo. All 84 plates of wonder were created by VHJ-inner-circleite Matt. Sime and Sera, when not moaning in full-mouthed ecstasy, kept exchanging burning glances that clearly said, "We must blog about this immediately. The world needs to know."

The chef at work.

We don't know about you, but we love us some food porn. Also, we enjoy reading about other people's personal lives. This post is for you if you are like us. It's a glimpse into the VHJ's near-n-dearest at their boho best. (If you aren't into fatty meals or candid snaps of folks you've never met, this post will bore you to tears; sorry; come back later; love you, mean it.)

You've heard of Matt before. He is the one who, when Sera was feeling like emo crap in a bucket of suck, arrived at her pad bearing pasta maker, bacon, Gorgonzola and cream. He's a fine writer, but more pertinent to this here blogversation is his blessed food-related obsessive-compulsive disorder. Matt owns a cookbook written by the psychotic genius who chefs the French Laundry, which is one of those restaurants that require reservations six months in advance. The cookbook talks about cutting little squares of meat "against the grain," fridging fresh fish in exactly the position in which they swam at the moment of their demise, and other frankly weird shit. Many of the recipes start with unseemly bits of offal, and end four days later. Not joking.

Most of us would treat such a cookbook as a novelty item, a glimpse into the inner-mindfuck of a true artist we could never imagine emulating. Matt, on the other hand, sees a fun challenge. He's the foodie equivalent of those crazy bastards who decide they want to swim the English channel.

As you can see, Matt likes to eat.

Matt called Sera up a few months ago and told her he hankered to engineer a feast for twelve. It would be a bit of work, he said with hilarious calm. Would she pitch in her producer's mind for drama and help him create an evening so cool, Oprah would beg to film it for a segment concerning the joie-de-vivreiest Angelenos in the history of ever? Strategy meetings ensued; invitations zipped into the hot little hands of our lucky, lucky jury; and the harmonic convergence of this weekend was the orgiastic, drunkarific result.

Our motley tribe descended upon Jo's, dressed to the nines. Here is the part we recommend to all of you. This is the thing that life is too short (and also waaaaaay too long) not to do: next time you plan a soiree, do mention to your friends that there's no such thing as overdressed.

We know, we know, there's no way in hell you're cooking that much. We understand; when supper's left to us, we usually end up serving pizza and cupcakes. Not everyone is lucky enough to know a cook as talented and maniacal as Matt. But even if your dinner party was catered by drive-thru, it shouldn't stop you from requiring festive attire. Believe us when we say you will derive special pleasure from dining in your finest. You will rediscover the deep hotness of your friends. Also, drunk people are more fun to watch when they're dressed to give an acceptance speech.

So, we mingled in the candlelight, champers-tipsy and newly re-in-love with one another. Simon rocked the orange velveteen blazer and pearl tie-bar. Lovely Wife Julia donned black silk, platform heels and a sideways tiara.

Power couple.

Jo poured her Semitic loveliness into a sparkly gown previously worn by a chanteuse at Cannes.

Sparkly Jo with longtime companion, Wiener.

Dinda and Mollie came as that couple at the cocktail party who make you reconsider swinging as a lifestyle.

Mols and Dinda, on the drive over. You know you want them.

Shana wore a blue crocheted flower in her hair; her Brit beau Dave, natty vest and rocker hair.

Intercontinental love in action.

Michael mixed thrift-store finds with designer duds in that envy-making way that overworked, sleep-deprived, yet nevertheless supermodelesque production designers do.

Matt's Very Hot Musician bro Andy wore a hat that made us reappraise our previous dismissal of Abraham Lincoln as unsexy.

Matt's girlfriend-cum-sous chef Lindsay wore her slinkster dress from Junior Prom, because it still fits, bitches.

Sera wore silver leather flowers in her hair and a capelet fashioned from 100% muppet fur.

Sera as rejected Dorothy Parker's Vicious Circle candidate.

So, we ate a lot. We took pictures of that, too, which we will share here for your droolification.

First, Matt served a soul-crushingly delish amuse-bouche of hamhock paté (sounds gross, tastes like a three-picture deal making artistic horror movies executive-produced by Guillermo del Toro - oh, and you get final cut on the films, and also James McAvoy/Natalie Portman will wake you each morning with a loving round of oral sex. Actually, as good as that all sounds? The paté was better).

Then he served us soup we would gladly kill for. Matt's initial inspiration for the whole event was Sera's offhanded remark that she quite liked the onion soup at Doughboy's, a hipsterlicious Hollywood bakery. "Dude, I can make an onion soup that will make you believe in Jesus," Matt shot back. And so he concocted a heavenly liquid requiring several days of simmering and several pounds of asiago - hands-down the best fucking soup Sera's ever tasted (and, full disclosure, very nearly enough to make her consider emailing Christ an application for the position of Personal Savior).

We strongly suggest someone get this soup on the table for the next Israeli-Palestinian peace talks. If anything can get 'em in the mood to lay down arms, it's a still-bubbling bowlful of broth, spongy bread, and ooey-gooey cheese.

If memory serves, right around the soup course was the first time Jo burst into tears of joy. This behavior would continue throughout the evening, as new and miraculous taste sensations were set before her sparkling bosom.

Many charming toasts were made, and glasses of wine were imbibed. We can't remember how many. More than four but less than all the wine in the world. Matt and Lindz split their time between the table and the roasting-hot kitchen, from whence nirvanic smells wafted. They emerged bearing skate - the fish, not the wheeled shoe - in a vertical sculpture of garlic and pan-seared lemon slice on a nest of oniony delight. Several people proposed marriage to Matt. When he gently refused, we offered to be his slave forever, as long as he cooked us skate every day.

Next came this complicated ravioli-esque pasta dish we can't recall the name of. Redolent of cheese, bursting with sweet buttery goodness, many members of our group decided that they would rather eat pasta created by Matt than anything else they could think of. Yes, including that.

Jules with her pasta plate.

After that, a palate-cleansing grapefruit-tarragon sorbet which Sera failed to photograph on account of she was shrieking with laughter and already so full she feared it was a mistake not to rent forklifts to get people back to their cars after the party.

The Very Hot Jews like meat. We like it so much that we suddenly realized we weren't really that full when Matt set before us a dish of lamb so beautiful we wanted to bronze it. It tasted just as good as you imagine.

Plating the meat course, sexily.

Then we took a much-needed breather - from the food, if not the drink, since Matt took that moment to bust out an epic bottle of dessert wine - and exchanged funny and embarrassing personal stories. Not to harp on the whole dress-up thing, but wearing spangly getups tends to jog one's formal-event memory banks. Visions of Sadie Hawkins Dances past pop into one's head. Michael charmed us with tales of helping his date - a girl! - make her dress. Sera recalled being helpfully informed that her prom dress made her look like a stripper. (It so didn't, at least in comparison to the stuff she started wearing later in life.) Tuxedo war stories abounded. Recollections of exotic travels punctuated by sumptuous meals that lead inevitably to heinous, gut-annihilating food poisoning. Life - isn't she grand?

Finally, Matt served dessert. He ended with another paté, the perfect symmetry of which seemed to soothe that OCD part of his brain. It was made of dense, dark, spiritually enlightening chocolate in a créme anglaise with pistachios. We all had seconds. Plates and fingers were licked. Groans of delight and overindulgence filled the air. Everyone swore they'd take a bullet for Matt, because protecting his gift had become the purpose of our lives.

Dessert, by the time Sera remembered to snap a pic of it.

And then, weary, some of us sloshed enough to require a cab, we collapsed into satiated heaps.

And that, handsome readers, is how the VHJ party. L'Chaim!

Just Think About It—No Rosh

There will be dancing, courtesy of incredibly hot DJs from both coasts.

There will be drinking, with cocktails augmented by thematically appropriate sponsor Pom Wonderful.

There will be schmoozing, courtesy of Jews and their Chai-curious friends.

There will be incredible nosh from new catering phenom Provision L.A.

It will go down on Tues., Sept. 18 at The Echoplex, in the basement of the fabulous Echo in Echo Park.

It is Dip't in Honey, a dazzling night of Rosh Hashanah debauchery and introspection co-sponsored by Reboot, Very Hot Jews, Pom and local public-radio giant KCRW.

Another thing the event will feature: New Year's resolutions from you. So submit 'em, baby! Let's hear what you've got. How are you going to expand your horizons, deepen your soul, soften your heart and harden your resolve? These Jews wanna know.

So mark your calendars, put Yellow Cab on speed dial and burnish your dancing shoes, and we'll see you on the 18th.

Tonight's Rock & Roll Seder: $10 Afterparty Tickets!

Want to check out the postmodern Jewy fabulousness of tonight's "In Haggadah Da Vida" second-night seder happening at L.A.'s Echo but can't afford the $75 ticket? Good news, my friend:

We'll be admitting folks for an after-dinner schmooze starting at 9:30 pm. The cover will be $10, and depending on when you arrive you can hear some raucous live music and/or the ultra-funky DJ stylings of Paul V. — and meet a bunch of superhot, brilliant, friendly and, by this point in the evening, probably very tipsy Hebrews.

The ten bucks will get you in the door. The bar will be fully operational. If you "know someone" (wink, wink) you might get a little Pesach wine hookup, Elijah-style.

How to Spend $75
(Wherein We Noodge You for Your Own Good)

It's pretty easy to find that the world has hoovered seventy-five clams out of your wallet, purse, mattress or whalebone-studded money clip.

You and your posse can spend it on about two rounds of drinks (before tip) at any Hollywood bar while straining to be heard above the latest Arcade Fire album and the cacophonous jingling of a million cell phones.

You can fork it over for a very average meal for two with no wine in an underlit boîte that overdresses the salads.

You can lay it down for some not-yet-assembled, piece-of-crap end table with a Swedish name, or a pair of socks from Barney's, or a lame gift basket full of indigestible baked "treats," or two months of fruitless online dating, or a Bedazzled frock for your shih tzu.

It's not really very much money, considering the underwhelming return on investment you can normally expect out of life.

Which is why we're writing to urge you to consider the value of a ticket to IN HAGGADAH DA VIDA, the stellar second-night Passover seder/feast/happening on Tues., April 3, which the Very Hot Jews are co-sponsoring (along with Reboot and Storahtelling) at hot L.A. club The Echo.

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Buy a ticket (although it's crazy to buy just one — bring your crew and share the love) and for once you'll truly get your $75 worth:

A hip, soulful, funny, interactive, modern, deeply meaningful seder ceremony conducted by young Israeli visionary/old soul Amichai Lau-Lavie. The founder of evening sponsor Storahtelling, he's one of a kind, with a fresh, deep take on the past but firmly rooted in the present, and blessed with a wicked sense of humor. This will be unlike any seder you've ever experienced, punctuated by ultra-modern stories, songs and observations. You'll leave inspired and energized, with new friends and an expanded sense of community.

An unforgettable feast — WITH WINE — provided by the culinary guerrillas of Ghetto Gourmet. When it comes to versatility and panache in the kitchen, the Ghet is as good as it gets, and when your taste buds first savor their version of the Passover meal, you'll experience a religio-orgasmic epiphany. And they'll serve it up to you with such grace that you'll feel like a mighty king. And don't forget the vino, selected for the occasion by local grape fiend and brainiac Brit Julian Davies (of The Echo's beloved Irregular Wine Tastings).

Fantastic live music by the splendorous Abby Travis, the magical Marvin Etzioni and others, incorporating the classic/psychedelic rock theme of the night and using some amazing tunes to further underscore the themes of Pesach in a way you never imagined possible.

The seismic turntable stylings of DJ Paul V, whom you may know from Indie 103.1, Bootie L.A. and Dragstrip 66, among other beat-mongering benchmarks. A master of the mash-up and guru of the groove, Paul has been a powerful force on the L.A. club scene for some years — and one of the first to get the kids shaking a tail feather to rock music again. He regularly rocks the Echo, but this is his first time doing it to commemorate a Jewish holiday, as far as we know. He's not an M.O.T., but he's definitely mishpuchah.

Comedy and spoken word from brilliant mensch Marc Maron, writer and hot Jewess Jill Soloway (Hello? She wrote for "Six Feet Under," people), the incomparable Ronna & Bev (whose new video is burning up YouTube), your favorite Very Hot Jews Simon and Sera, and more. These folks will not only add their wit and wisdom to the ceremonial richness of the holiday but will also be noshing and drinking and kvelling and schmoozing with you. It's unlikely that you've ever shared a table with so many hot, clever and accomplished Jews before.

Will you meet that someone special? Very possible. Will you make tons of friends and have the time of your life? You bet your ass. What's more, you can find the event itself and virtually all of the participants on MySpace — make friends with them now and leave a comment on their pages about how happy you are that you'll be attending.

So order your tickets today — or at the very latest by Mar. 28, so the Ghetto Gourmet folks know how much food to make for you nice people.

Don't make us come over there.

Hurry!

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Not to stress you out, but the time is now to make your rezzie for our second-seder extravaganza on Tuesday, April 3.

This is your big chance to actually have fun at a seder. Eat gourmet food (it's gonna be spectacular, and worth the cash), drink wine until you see animated Chagall images unfurling on the walls, experience the deeply entertaining stylings of those pictured on the flyer (most of whom can be found on MySpace, so you can make new friends before you even arrive), and soak up our ridiculous hotness.

If you are in any way shape or form living in, visiting or within a day's drive of Los Angeles, you really should make the pilgrimage. We believe this event is part of a fascinating, wonderful, humanistic, open-minded, philosophically bright, funny, sexy and soulful transformation of Jewishness. It's the next chapter.

We ache to see you there.

P.S. You can see a brand-new video from event participants and acclaimed self-help authors Ronna and Bev here. Words fail us.

Feast With The Very Hot Jews!

The Very Hot Jews are so stunningly, disturbingly hot that in our short life sexing up the blogsphere with all the zest and panache of an everything bagel, we've attracted worshippers like a porchlight draws moths. Perhaps you are even now salivating at the very thought of our extreme hotness.

But did you know that your doe-eyed admiration of us pales in comparison to the way we ourselves feel about certain Jews of Blinding Desirability? We swoon for Jill Soloway, who wrote the fuck out of the best TV show ever and, in her off hours, penned a book so funny it made Sera snort latte through her nose. We write RebootLA's name in hearts all over our Trapper Keeper. Do you know about Reboot? They're an organization dedicated to open dialogue about What Is Now with us young Jew types. They're exploring and redefining Jewishness in a way that makes us want to salute them with lighters, stadium concert-style.

Imagine our delight when the above Scintillating Hebrews invited us to co-sponsor the grooviest second-night seder ever. The thing is gonna be hip from hand-washing to Elijah, thanks to the orgasmic food stylings of The Ghetto Gourmet. Yes, we're serving food the whole way through; no waiting an hour with only matzo and bitter herbs to tide you over. Visual and auditory entertainment will abound — there's talk of dance and music and yes, wine cups overflowing. Among the other groovy participants: genius writer Julie Hermelin and visionary spiritual diva Amichai Lau-Lavie. Un seder muy caliente. 'Nuff said.

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What will the Very Hot Jews be doing, you ask? Duh, talking! We intend to deliver opinion, commentary and, yes, a joke or two about He Whose Brain They Saved, all for your entertainment. You will laugh, you will eat, you will enjoy your most memorable seder since you were twelve and Uncly Morty got drunk on that fourth cup and started screaming that Aunt Miriam's a whore.

Nu? Go get your tickets, bubbeleh!