The Hanukkah Post

Happy Hanukkah (Chanukah, Hannukah, whatever).

Friday was the first night of Hanukkah. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this Jewish answer to the holiday season, it is a celebration of the victory of the Maccabees over the Seleucid king Antiochus in 166 BCE.

It’s a great story–the one we tell the kids. Who can’t resist a festival of religious freedom and triumph over all odds?

But just like the Pilgrim’s story, it’s not quite that simple. Unfortunately, kids grow up and learn the whole story. Or at least the ones who can read. Or bother to read.

The Maccabees were a family of traditional Jews in a period of time when Israel was becoming more Hellenized. After a period of political fighting about the high priesthood, Antiochus got sort of annoyed, and banned Jewish practices altogether. That’ll teach ‘em, right?

Oops. The Maccabees revolted. They led a small band of freedom fighters into the countryside and launched the first guerilla war. By modern standards, they’d be considered terrorists. They’d swoop down into a town, kill the Hellenized Jews, forcibly circumcise the children, and force the locals to join their army.

When they finally won control of Jerusalem after a whole year of fighting, and rededicated the temple, were they happy? NOPE.

They then started waging a holy war on surrounding tribes, with forced conversion being the major goal.

To this happy memory of religious freedom from oppression, children around the world light candles for eight nights in a row, symbolizing the eight days of the rededication of the temple (okay, there’s also a supposed miracle about how the oil in the eternal flame over the ark burned for eight days…).

And every Jewish household smells like fried food for eight days. Continuing the oil theme, you see, anything fried is a delicacy around Hanukkah time. Sometimes symbolism gets a tad weird.

My kids start asking for latkes around the week BEFORE Hanukkah starts.

I don’t mind making them, except for the mess. We aren’t big on fried foods in this doctors’ household, although we are willing to forgo the healthy eating rules from time to time. So I always forget just how messy frying is. Until the day I make latkes.

The next day, I end up scraping congealed oil off the floor, the counter, the range hood, the ceiling, and usually the dog. Ack.

Nonetheless, as the matriarch of an ostensibly Jewish family, I make latkes every year, shortly after making certain that the fire extinguisher is in proper working order.

If you have never had this delicacy, I highly recommend them. There are a few restaurants here in Houston that have latkes on the menu; they’re so good. In fact, they are sinfully delicious. And I have the best recipe, EVER.

It’s not a family recipe. Even the hubby thinks my latkes are better than Bubbe’s. And that is probably the actual Hanukkah miracle.

The secret? I got my recipe from a Food Network special about ten years ago. So, since it isn’t a secret, I’m willing to share. But don’t tell anyone. Latke recipes are almost as closely guarded as the secret for original Coke (which isn’t original, of course, because the original recipe really did have coke in it).

I encourage you to try it. But be prepared to scrape the next day.

102-Year Old Bubbe’s Latkes

Grate potatoes superfine (food processor, folks). Don’t drain the liquid. Add one egg per potato, a tablespoon of flour per potato, season with salt, pepper and garlic to taste.

Basically, you’re making potato mush. Scoop a handful of the goop, liquid and all, into the hot oil and smush it down with a spatula into a sort of fat pancake.

Fry in hot oil (I use peanut, but the original recipe calls for olive oil, which is more in keeping with the holiday spirit) until very crispy.

Drain oil by placing finished latkes on a rack over a cookie sheet in oven. Serve warm with applesauce (hubby’s favorite) or sour cream (mine).

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