A latke by any other name

Almost certainly the most entertaining recipe you'll ever follow

By Aaron B. Cohen

Issue of Dec. 22, 2008 / 22 Kislev 5769

Hockey puck, slider, spud muffin, grease sponge, glue glob... oh the shame of a latke gone wrong. Heaven forbid the guests at your Chanukah party would have to digest a latke that merits such insult.

When it comes to latkes I wear the apron in my family. I’ll make a latke worth ridiculing over my dead spatula.

What’s a perfect latke? Golden brown on the outside, crispy around the edges, no thicker than $1.50 in quarters, and neither lumpy nor gooey nor crumbly, G-d forbid! More sweet than salty, more chewy than doughy, moist not arid, limpid not limp.

A great latke never hides behind applesauce or sour cream; it invites them over for dinner. It tangos with brisket, plays footsie with green beans. It has your guests beg for more. A really great latke has enough oil to consecrate the Temple, produces enough heartburn to last only one day, but leaves a taste in your mouth for eight. A divine latke is a nes gadol, a great miracle, and has the face of Moses fried on.

What follows is my recipe for latkes that, given enough oil, shine.

What you need:

• About 10 red or white potatoes (a couple of pounds)
• About 1 big sweet potato
• 1-2 carrots
• 1 huge onion (two smaller onions, if they’re friends)
• 2 cloves of garlic (or the whole bulb, if you don’t want friends)
• 3 tsp curry powder
• 1 tsp paprika
• 1 tsp cumin
• 1 tsp salt
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp baking soda
• About 3 eggs
• About 1-2 cups matzah meal (the stuff left over from Pesach if it isn’t moldy)
• A dash of this, a pinch of that (use your imagination, think parsley)
• Olive oil. Not butter, not canola oil, not peanut oil. Where do you think Jews come from, Alaska? Do not cook with Pam (unless you’re married), this is Chanukah!

What to have:

• Food processor
• Big stainless steel mixing bowl
• Big colander (but don’t strain yourself)
• Wooden mixing spoon chewed at the end by the beaters of your mixer not your dog
• Iron skillet or griddle. (Drop that aluminum pan! You’ll cook with IRON, you hear? Did you say Teflon? Drop down ‘n gimme 20!)
• Big metal serving spoon
• Metal spatula
• Paper towels
• Baking sheet

What to do:

Wash and peel the potatoes, carrots, sweet potato, and anything else that might have come into contact with fertilizer, chemicals, or vermin.

Quarter the onions and remove the skin.

Smash the side of the garlic clove(s) with the edge of a knife. The skin will come off easily (be careful; so will your finger).

Now you’re going to use your food processor carefully. Stay focused. You need a light touch on that “on” button, like a cop in a hostage situation. You want to knock off the bad guy without killing the hostage. That’s how you’re going to blend the potatoes, carrots, sweet potato, onion and garlic. You do not want to chop them, and you do not want to puree them. You want to do something in between.

Take this mixture from the food processor and put it in the colander. Get out the excess liquid. Put your hands in (wash them first) and squeeze. Make it cry uncle. Make it say the Shema. Liquid is the enemy up to a point. And then it’s your friend. Your latke needs a little, but only a little.

Put the drained ingredients in the mixing bowl. Crack the eggs into the bowl and mix everything together using your wooden spoon.

Fold in your dry ingredients (spices, salt, etc.). If you were to throw the batter at the wall, it shouldn’t drip down, but sort of stick.

Meanwhile, you’ve been heating your skillet (iron, remember?). Don’t even think about putting in the oil until water droplets dance the kazatsky.

Pour in one half cup olive oil. Then pour in the other half.

Let the oil heat, but don’t let it smoke. Smoking’s bad for its health.

Take a deep breath. Do some deep knee bends. Take your spatula off safety.

Dipping the big metal serving spoon into your batter, drop a big spoonful of batter into the oil. Like you’re patting the head of an infant, pat the top of the batter with the spoon so that it spreads out evenly.

Cook about 4-5 latkes in the skillet at one time. Let them fry. Let them sizzle. Let them bubble.

Wait two minutes, then flip one. You know you want to. It won’t hurt anyone. No one needs to know. Just do it. Is it golden brown? Do you see the face of Moses? Can you sell it on eBay?

Let it cook on the other side. For every yin there’s a yang.

Pop it on the paper towel you’ve spread on the baking sheet, which you leave in the oven on warm, then serve with applesauce and sour cream.

Are your guests happy? Are you happy? Is Chanukah happy?

Yes it is! Happy Chanukah!

Aaron B. Cohen is Executive Editor of JUF News, a publication of the Jewish Federation of Greater Chicago and, clearly, a cook with style.