Tonight was the first candle of Chanukah. It may not be that big a deal, and it certainly gets ridiculously commercialized and blown out of proportion because of its proximity to Christmas. But I still like Chanukah. Eight days of yummy unhealthy greasy food and presents… what could be bad?
I won’t wax poetic about the deeper meaning of the holiday, or the victory of freedom over tyranny or the political implications of celebrating revolutionaries or even the random thought that this may have been the first war in which oil was a big deal. I’m sure you can find all that and more elsewhere in the blogosphere.
Instead, I’ll talk about latkes. Because Chanukah, like all Jewish holidays, fits the common theme: They tried to kill us, we won, let’s eat.
My mom makes potato latkes grated in the processor, with a bit of onion and flour mixed in with the potatoes. And they’re fried small and nice and greasy and crisp, allowed to soak on paper towel so that they’re just slightly oozing with oil. With a little applesauce, they’re irresistible.
To all my Jewish readers, happy Chanukah!