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December 19, 2003
The tradition of Latke-palooza
Born out of guilt, big cooking frenzy makes Chanukah "alone"
enjoyable.
ANDREA GAPPELL SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH BULLETIN
Chanukah has always been celebrated with gusto in my family. Even
back in the day when my brother and I fought over who would light
the candles on each of the eight nights, food always took centrestage.
We nibbled on homemade dreidel cookies with sugar sprinkles, devoured
bags of chocolate Chanukah gelt and ate crispy, golden potato latkes
to our hearts' content.
Soon after graduating from college, my brother made aliyah, fulfilling
his dream of living in Israel, and sent our ordered holiday ritual
into a tailspin.
After several years, with my brother married and starting a family,
my parents began to spend Chanukah in Israel. This left me, their
unmarried firstborn, to fend for herself in Los Angeles.
Jewish parents are prime targets for a bit of holiday guilt, and
mine are no exception.
"That's OK," I'd say. "While you're squirting jelly
into your sufganiyot (jelly doughnuts), I'll be lighting
my menorah – alone. But, go. Have a good time. Don't mind me.
I'll be fine."
Jewish guilt begat a new Chanukah tradition – Latke-palooza.
Latke-palooza usually falls on the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend
in November. Schedules are cleared, supplies are purchased and the
kitchen is readied. Grubby clothes are donned and heads are covered
in kerchiefs. The guest list is short – my mother, my father
and me.
Two huge, restaurant-supply pans are pulled out of storage, filled
with oil and set on the Viking range to heat up to just the right
temperature. Slotted spoons are poised to dip into the first batch
of latke mixture. Spatulas are at the ready for latke flipping.
A Chinese, wire-mesh scoop is propped and ready to remove stray
potato fritters from the hot oil. Paper-towel-lined baking sheets
await the finished product. Festive, latke-making music is cued
up. Excitement is in the air, as the oil heats up. It's time. Let
Latke-palooza begin!
Each person mans his or her station. My mother is in charge of potato
shredding and mixing up the batches; one batch at a time to ensure
maximum freshness. She also zealously maintains kitchen cleanliness,
keeping everyone on their toes. My father takes his place at the
stove. I run interference, while at the same time manning frying
pan No. 2. Dad is on the left and I am on the right. Latke-palooza
roles are as irrevocable as my father's place at the dinner table.
The first batch is a bust, just like when you make regular pancakes.
The oil is too hot or it's not hot enough. We're just warming up.
We do some quality control, otherwise known as taste-testing, and
then my father and I yell over the whir of exhaust fans and sizzling
oil, to my mother at the mixing station.
"Throw an extra handful of matzah meal into the next batch,"
I say.
"Needs more onion," says my father.
Batch after batch we fry until several hours later we emerge from
the kitchen, hot, reeking of oil and sated from all of the taste-testing.
We have gone through 20 pounds of potatoes, eight pounds of onions,
two dozen eggs, one and a quarter gallons of oil and one box of
matzah meal. No potato has been left ungrated.
Part of our secret, latke-making technique involves flash-freezing
the cooked latkes. The latkes can then be heated up in a hot oven
(no microwaves, please) to be enjoyed throughout Chanukah. This
may sound like blasphemy to those families who believe that half
the fun is standing over a splattering pan of oil and producing
platter after platter of greasy latkes for the waiting hordes. Fun
for the latke-eaters, perhaps, but not for the cook!
Latkes crisping in the oven provide the same mouth-watering aroma
as those coming hot out of the frying pan, with the bonus being
that you actually get to enjoy the festivities. Admit it latke-fryers,
when was the last time you got to sit on the floor and enjoy a spirited
game of dreidel? Nun?
Our latke production fuels several get-togethers. My parents host
a formal dinner party for their closest friends. We have a casual,
pre-Israel-departure, pre-Chanukah party with all the cousins.
I host my own Chanukah party, every year inviting a growing number
of latke aficionados who make a major dent in the Latke-palooza
output. With the latkes already made, my biggest concern is peeling
gold foil off of Chanukah gelt and visiting with my friends. My
celebration is held in my parent's house, while they are away in
Israel. Everyone who has one brings their own menorah, so there
is no arguing over who gets to light the candles.
The best part is that my parents get to head off to Tel-Aviv, guilt-free,
knowing that a part of them will be here with me in Los Angeles
while I enjoy a Chanukah tradition of my own.
POTATO LATKES
2 1/2 lbs of baking potatoes, cleaned but not peeled
1 cup finely chopped onion
1 tablet vitamin C, crushed and mixed with 3 tbsps of water
3-4 tbsps matzah meal or flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 tsps salt
3 large eggs, beaten
Vegetable oil, for frying
In a large skillet, heat a half-inch oil over medium-high heat.
Grate the potatoes either by hand or using a food processor. Grate
only enough potatoes for one batch. If using a food processor, shred
the potatoes using the grating disk. Remove grated potatoes from
processor bowl and replace the grating disk with a chopping blade.
Return half of the batch of shredded potatoes to the processor,
pulsing quickly four to five times to chop up the shreds slightly.
Repeat with other half.
Put the grated potatoes in a large mixing bowl and quickly toss
with the vitamin C water. The ascorbic acid in the vitamin C will
help prevent the potatoes from blackening.
Add the chopped onion, matzah meal or flour, baking powder, salt
and beaten eggs, and stir to incorporate all ingredients.
Using a large spoon, gather up two heaping tablespoons of mixture,
pushing out most of the liquid. Slide off spoon into the oil, flattening
the top of each pancake with the back of the spoon.
Fry until golden on each side and drain in a single layer on baking
sheets lined with paper towels. Keep warm in a 250 degree oven until
ready to serve. Or, when latkes are cool, freeze in a single layer
on baking sheets. After the latkes are frozen, you may stack them
in a container or put them in freezer bags.
When ready to serve, preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Place frozen
latkes in a single layer on baking sheets. Heat in the oven for
approximately 10 minutes or until sizzling and lightly browned.
Place latkes on serving platter and enjoy the party! Recipe makes
25-30 latkes.
Andrea Gappell is a freelance writer and food-stylist
based in Los Angeles.
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