Mrs. Latke Head

I did not grow up in Pittsburgh.  If I had, I would have knowledge of All Things Potato.  Pierogies, French fries on your salad, French fries in your sandwich – these are the main three food groups that Western Pennsylvania is famous for.  Get aht – yinz don’t wahnt fries on yinz’s steak salad?!

(For those like me, who are not from Western PA but have a bit of experience with Indian food: pierogies are essentially Polish samosas.  Potato filling wrapped in dough and then cooked.  I have to say, though, that I much prefer samosas to pierogies.)

Thus it was not until this year that I had knowledge of the product called frozen hash browns.  For a picnic this summer, my clever friend B_____, who did grow up in Pittsburgh, made a dish which my Younger Daughter called “Latke Salad” but which B_____ calls “Fried Potatoes.”  They are made using either dehydrated or frozen shredded potatoes, sautéed with diced onions, green peppers, and spices.  YD raved about Latke Salad.  I raved about the idea of shredded potatoes that did not contain scrapings of my knuckles.

Thanksgiving came. I cooked up a storm.  The next day I walked all over Pittsburgh’s Northside.  Then I was struck with Swollen Knee syndrome, remarkably on the same knee I injured during theHalloween Parades.   A variety of other things drained my energy.  And yet, Chanukah kept looking like it would arrive right on schedule, ten days after Thanksgiving.  Latke-making loomed.

 

Two-pan frying is necessary, if you want to finish cooking
the latkes before Purim.

I forced YD to help me at the grocery store.  She ran to get items while I limped around.  She did a fantastic job, until I came to “frozen hash browns” on the list.  I said, “Those are for making latkes.”  She balked.  “Those wouldn’t be real latkes!  You have to make latkes from potatoes!”  I said, “Okay,” and sent her back to get some real potatoes while I snuck over to the freezer section and found “Denny’s America's diner style hash brown shredded potatoes.”

My husband has been asking for someone to invent an Automatic Latke-Making Machine, but so far, there isn’t one.  When I shred the potatoes myself, latke-making is a long and messy process, at least two hours, including the time I spend removing gray shreds of potatoes from the kitchen walls.  With the frozen hash browns, it took about 45 minutes total.  Clean up was a breeze.  Woot! I even had the energy and enthusiasm to make Christmas cookies on the same day as I made latkes.   YD praised my latkes, and thanked me for using real potatoes.  I quickly disposed of the Denny’s bag and accepted her thanks.

My secret ingredient

Here on the blog I have made potato latkes six times.  The recipe using frozen hash browns follows (below), but if you are a purist and like to use “real potatoes” here is my recipe from past years.

If you are a Boy Scout at camp, here is a recipe for you.

Spin the dreidel. Sov, sov, sov.

Golden latkes, using no-longer-frozen potatoes

Potato Latkes using frozen shredded potatoes

YIELD 24 pancakes

Note:  This was just enough for the three of us, using the latkes as our main dish for dinner. If the Common Household Son will be at your table, double this recipe.

INGREDIENTS

one 26-ounce package frozen Denny’s hash brown shredded potatoes.

(or any brand, about 5-6 cups)

½ to 1 cup onion, finely chopped

1⁄4 cup fresh parsley, minced

2 tablespoons milk

3 eggs, beaten

1/3 cup all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon pepper (more or less to your taste)

vegetable oil (total of about 1 cup, or maybe less)

DIRECTIONS

Place hash browns in a strainer and rinse with cold water until thawed. Drain thoroughly; transfer to a large bowl.

Add onion, parsley, milk, eggs, flour, salt and pepper; mix well.

In a skillet over medium heat, heat 1/4 inches of oil. Drop batter by 1/4 cupfuls into hot oil. Fry until golden brown on both sides. Drain on paper towels.

Optional: Serve with sour cream or applesauce.

Note: If using refrigerated hash browns, skip the first step.

Angelic Latke Music

Pastor’s sermon last Sunday asked us to pay attention to the message of angels.  I thought it was an excellent sermon – it’s hard to make a new point about the Age Old Story of Christmas, but for me it was jarring.  For the past few weeks and months I think I’ve been getting some messages, possibly from angels.  When I say angels, I don’t mean winged humanoids dressed in frilly clothes, or humanoids with perfectly pleasant behavior.  I mean people with a message from God.

Back in November, I read a disturbing article in The New Yorker about a black teen who was accused of a crime and spent three years in jail before the case was dismissed.  I could not help wondering if the outcome would have been the same if the kid were white.

Before and after reading that, there were events in Ferguson, Staten Island, Cleveland…

This Thursday I went to a Presbytery meeting, where we spent an hour in an ongoing examination of the cost of racism. 

There is not liberty and justice for all, in this land.  That’s the angels’ simple message. But they have not told me what a white middle-aged suburban woman can do about it.

On Friday I had to get started on making potato latkes.  This is an annual ritual in which potato shards and a thin layer of oil get distributed all over the kitchen. This time, rather than live-streaming the latkes straight to the plates of hungry people, I was cooking them solo, to freeze for the synagogue Hanukkah dinner next week.   I needed some music for the next 1 ½ hours of potato mayhem.  What better expression of “December dilemma” than to listen to Handel’s Messiah (Christmas portion) while cooking Jewish holiday food?

To the strains of “Comfort ye, my people,” I cried over the chopping of the onion.  With “Every valley shall be exalted… and the rough places plain,” I was peeling the rough skin and bumps off the potatoes.  “And he shall purify” the extra starch out of the shredded potatoes. 

I added the other ingredients, but the batter looked a bit weird.  Just when we got to “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light,” it dawned on me that I had forgotten to add the flour.

Latke batter.  Purists would probably use only
 matzo meal rather than flour.  I didn't feel like rooting around
in the basement to find the matzo meal.

Soon, the oil was heating up, and an angel of the Lord appeared to shepherds, who were “sore afraid.”  Angels again! The shepherds’ fear reminded me of the Cost of Racism discussion.  Fear lies at the heart of racism.  Some people have paid a heavy, heavy price.  I am afraid to do anything about it, and besides, I am not sure what to do about it. 

At first, I made only 3 latkes at a time, so as
 to not get distracted and burn them.

I started the process of frying the latkes.  I hit my stride when the music got to “Come unto him, all ye that labor.”  

Twelve precious latkes, ready to freeze.  Of course, I measured
them, because in my experience with Jewish food,
SIZE MATTERS.

By the time I had twelve latkes ready to go in the freezer, we were beyond the Christmas portion of the oratorio – moving beyond glory, light, and joy.  “A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” made me think of the grief of the mothers of these young men who have been killed.  Of the grief of police officers who have the difficult task of maintaining safety and order, who have to deal with frightening situations all the time.

What would That Man of Sorrows have to say about us?  About me?

See the jelly roll pan of latkes in the freezer?  I get such
grief from the family for using the jelly roll pan
for anything BUT making jelly roll.
But it's perfect for freezing latkes.

I ended up putting 30 latkes in the freezer.  The crowd on Tuesday will probably consume about 500 latkes. My effort is just a drop in the bucket, and yet it is more effective than I feel I could be against racial injustice.  It is not time, yet, for the Hallelujah Chorus.

I don’t know where the angels’ messages will lead me.  For now, I am just doing some reading.  I have started The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness, by Michelle Alexander.  I’d welcome other reading suggestions on the topic.  Having said that, I have to delay more consideration of this serious issue because I must spend every waking minute in the next week either practicing the piano or making latkes. 

 

The aftermath of latke making.

Smile! It's Latke Time!

At this season, when we are told “It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” some people are less than cheery.  There are several conditions which make people feel sad, and I’ve got one of them.  I’ve determined that I suffer from Latke Envy. 

Latkes are on the list of recipes I did not grow up with but that I am called to cook in our interfaith household.  (See recipe and photo. And here for Boy Scout latke recipe.)  

On Saturday the Common Household Husband and I went to a Hanukkah party for adults.  We were anxious about what to bring, and decided against a bottle of wine, as our taste leans toward the kool-aid types, and the party hosts would not only have a more refined taste, but also probably have their own wine cellar.  I decided to bring cookies.   The other 65 guests brought wine, so my intuition was correct on that. 

At the party I noticed that the latkes were beautiful perfect circles, and a lovely golden-brown.  Did I mention that this party was catered? 

On Sunday, back in our So Very Common Household, I spent an hour and a half making latkes. This is a laborious process, even with the use of the Jewish cook’s favorite cooking tool, the food processor.  I found that some of my potatoes were inedible, with black spots in the middle (Pittsburgh potato famine?!).  After an hour of simultaneous two-frying-pan cooking, I only had 24 small, thin, irregularly-shaped latkes to show for my effort.  Oy vey! My son alone could eat 24 latkes at one meal.   

As we were sitting down to dinner, Youngest Daughter said in a cheerful voice, "Mommy!  I forgot to tell you!  You and Shane's Mom can make latkes for my English class.  We're reading The Diary of Anne Frank and we're at the part where it's Hanukkah!"  She revealed that there was a class discussion as to whose Mom, among the two Jewish students in her class, makes the best latkes. 

My first response was to look plaintively at my husband.  I said, “I have been volunteered.”

But then I noticed that YD didn’t say, “you must make latkes” but rather, “you can…”   Word choice matters!  I was emboldened. 

"No, I can NOT make latkes for your English class.”  I surrendered that honor to Shane's Mom.  She wins.

We lit the candles, said the blessings, and started our meal.  The family expressed their disappointment at the number of latkes.  My Latke Envy surged.

I said to my husband, “Did you notice that the latkes at that party last night were perfectly round?  How do they DO that?”

He said, “Well.  They use the Ronco Latke-matic.” 

Ah.  As seen on TV! Makes perfectly round latkes every time!  Call now, and you can also get the gefilte fish mold for just $9.95!  Makes a wonderful gift for the goyim who suffer from latke envy!  While supplies last.

What December cooking task do you wish Ronco made a tool for?