Hanukkah

These cookies I hold near and dear to my being.  When I was with my grandma, I could simply be me.  I could be my sweet self, I could be my bratty self, I could be my intuitive self, and I could be my quiet self. We had a special relationship.  I was the youngest of 7 grandchildren and my childhood was riddled with illness.  

I was ALWAYS sick. I was hospitalized with collapsed lungs at the age of 12 and after 20 days, I was released. It was the beginning of summer and that summer, I mostly spent in the house, in bed. I went into the hospital weighing 77 pounds and came out 25 pounds lighter.

My grandma came over every day and made sure I ate.  She made me all of my favorite foods; her pasta, chicken and dumplings, matzoh brie (a matzoh version of french toast), egg noodles with cottage cheese + salt (I know, it sounds gross-but it is really good), and so much more. These cookies were in our cookie jar everyday and these cookies make me happy.

As I light the menorah tonight, I will light the candles in honor of my grandma, whom I think about all the time.  She gave me a gift, the gift of unconditional love.

"Latkes are a kind of oil, into which small quantities of shredded potato have been infused." -- Jonathan Safran Foer


Latkes, also known as potato pancakes, are a traditional treat to eat at least once during the eight days of Hanukkah. The reason you eat latkes for Hanukkah is because they are fried in oil. Why oil? Hanukkah celebrates the re-dedication of the second temple after a battle and along with the victory came the miracle in which mere drops of oil in an oil lamp lasted eight days. The "miracle" is much like a story about a fat man coming down a chimney with presents...

A real miracle would be to have perfectly crispy and not-so-greasy latkes. For years there has been a debate in my family. My mom and I spoke up in defense of shredding potatoes for latkes, and my papa insisted that grating lead to much crispier ones. It's all in the technique, as most recipes call for the same ingredients--eggs, flour or matzah meal, onions and potatoes. Last year I had some of the crispiest latkes ever and guess what? Papa was right. Grating does make them crispier. That and frying them in the just right amount of oil at just the right temperature of course.

I took a walk with my grandson Isaac a few weeks ago. We went to see the ducks. He knows what ducks say as well as cows, goats, horses (with prompting), and chickens. He is two years old. His name, biblical and strong, may herald the beginning of a new era in baby naming. I have a second grandson, born in September. His name is, Leo Henry, very distinguished. Leo has a tough act to follow in Isaac, but I am sure he will hold his own.

It is pay back time, in a way, since my son, the younger of my two children, is the father of the animal whisperer, while his older sister the original tough act to follow is Leo’s mother.

Now, in my early sixties, I am happy I can keep up with Isaac and expect to hold my own with Leo, as well. Grandchildren arrive on the scene these days much later than in the past. We are a healthier “older generation.” We trek. We do Pilates, but do the children really have to wait so long to figure out who they want to be, to settle down, and to multiply?

For many years, from well before the empty nest until the birth of grandchildren, we have no one to take trick or treating and, at this time of year, for those of the Jewish persuasion, no one with whom to light candles and fry latkes.

The Hanukkah crown, to be worn by the person most representing the spirit of the holiday, this year would have to go to Leah Adler, the proprietor of the Milky Way, famous for being the best upscale kosher restaurant in Beverly Hills, and because it’s owner, Leah Adler, also happens to be Steven Spielberg’s mom.

Opened over 30 years ago, the Milky Way is in its second location, neatly tucked away in the Jewish strip of Pico Blvd., and is charming and inviting from the get go. The dining room is fitted with comfy red leather booths, the tables are set with white tablecloths and oversized well-framed posters of her son’s movies hang everywhere. Looking up from a yummy cheese blintz one can see a picture of ET riding in the bicycle basket or Liam Neeson as Oskar Schindler. Even without several dozen family photos crammed on top of the bar, (in this case many with smiling celebrities and politicians) the place would feel like you were visiting your favorite Jewish aunt’s house for dinner.

One is awed by the life force of Leah Adler. She stands no more than five feet tall, if that, and at ninety-three is as alert as her radiant eyes are blue. She has worn her hair shorter than Mia Farrow’s ever was, forever. Short and still buttercup yellow, it frames the face of this beautiful leprechaun. Beaming her eyes directly into yours, she welcomes one to her restaurant the way she has for years, stopping at every booth to bestow a smile, she flashes her headlights and greets her guests.