A few weeks ago, my boyfriend tells me that his parents, who live in Michigan, are considering a trip to Chicago for Passover - bringing with them two of their other children. They think it would be fun if my boyfriend and I put together some sort of seder.

Real fun.

Of course my boyfriend says "Sure, why not?" Meanwhile, I happen to know that neither one of us owns a pot big enough to cook more than a double serving of macaroni and cheese. So how are we going to make matzo ball soup for six? Besides - and I realize this is slightly pathetic - the matzo ball soup mix I bought last Passover is still taking up space in my cabinet. It looked really good in the store, as I recall. And the idea of actually making it was quite intriguing. It just never materialized. I think I bought some soup instead, one night after work, from the kosher deli conveniently located up the street. Probably for the best.

I realize that at some point in my life I am going to have to grow up and make a legitimate seder. But I'm pretty sure that's not expected of me at least until I'm married. I think you can register for a seder plate and one of those Lucite matzo holders as wedding gifts. I'm not quite sure where you get the Haggadahs or that Pascal lamb, but hopefully my mom will help me out there.

Hey - I'm not the only one. Hillel's Graduate and Professional division in Chicago decided for the first time last year to offer incompetent twentysomethings like myself a "seder-to-go." The packages came complete with Passover recipes, Haggadahs and tips on how to put together a seder.

Want to know how many people picked up a seder-to-go? Not one. "It was too much responsibility," GAP Director Karen Beth Farkas-Cohen said. "Young people are interested in doing Passover, but they're not quite so certain they know what they're doing."

Yet the community seders GAP and other young adult groups have hosted in recent years have not always been well attended either - which is why Farkas- Cohen said she came up with the seder-to-go idea in the first place, figuring young people would prefer to spend the holiday in their own apartments, with their own friends.

Turns out, Passover is at least one occasion young people pick family over friends.

"Passover is so intensely family oriented," says 29-year-old assistant Rabbi Jay Moses, of Reform congregation Temple Sholom in Chicago. "If you don't have family to share it with, a lot of people feel they're not adequate for the task."

Who could blame us? Our mothers made Passover seem like such an ordeal - the cleaning, the changing plates, cracking all those eggs without getting any shell in the coffee cake - we're afraid to take charge. The beauty of not having in-laws and children is, we don't have to.

It seems the only thing that can keep us from spending seders with Mom and Dad is our jobs. If you track attendance of young adult community seders in Chicago, and I'm betting elsewhere as well, the numbers correlate to what day of the week Passover begins. Years when seders fall on weekends, twentysomethings flock back home. With a mid-week start like we have this year, Jewish organizations are expecting better turn-outs.

"Judaism to many young people is family," Farkas-Cohen said. "If there's any way they can go home, they're going to try."

Sounds reasonable to me. In fact, after pointing out our many limitations to

my boyfriend, he called his parents and did some re-negotiating. They decided it might be for the best if the family spends this Passover in Pittsburgh, where my boyfriend's aunt will be preparing a proper seder. I'm going too - taking two days off work and making the 11-or-so hour car trip to be there.

What lengths I will travel to avoid having to cook.

Allison Kaplan is a columnist for the Chicago Jewish Star whose mother only lets her date Jewish men.