Hanukkah

box8.jpglaraine_newman_cameo.jpgI’m a California Jew. If one were to compare ethnicity in terms of packaging, we’d be ‘plain wrap’. Both my folks were Jewish, but Mom was an Atheist and Dad, well,  he grew up in the little town of Chloride Arizona and Grandpa Harry was the Sheriff.  Once, when I was a kid, I brought a stray cat into the house. Dad hated cats. The center of his face turned purple with rage. “You git that ornery varmint outta here!”  Get the picture?

Then I met my salt of the earth, “Philly bro” husband who promised his father on his deathbed that he’d have his kids bar/bat mitzvah’d, what the fuck was I gonnna do?

I joined a neighborhood Temple. By the way, our house is literally straddled by Temples. Sephardic (the building and the inside is breathtakingly gorgeous) the Conservative and the Reform. Guess which one we chose? Also, it had a renowned Mommy and Me program.

When we attended the first Shabbat as a family, I was nervous.  I wore a dress. That was me ‘towing the line’. I didn’t know what to expect.  What I liked about our Temple was that it was modest.  Still, I was worried  my uncouth manners would make me an outcast OR get us kicked out.

As Chad and I were hurrying across the street to the Temple, I said “Now look, we’ve got to be really, uh, you know, polite.” “What’re you talkin’ about?” he said. “You’re the one with the sailor mouth.” It’s true. You hang around Comedians long enough….

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hanukkahstamp.jpgTruthfully, Hanukkah makes me anxious. It’s one of those performance things. Not about making crispy incredible latkes or the homemade applesauce or the chorus of songs after the blessings. No, it’s the presents. Giving exactly the right gift meant you know exactly what the kid needs. A mom’s job, right? Um... Know who they are and you know what they want? Right? Um... Could we call it generalized mother present anxiety syndrome? Hanukah really ups the ante on the whole thing. I mean, Christmas, ok, one day. If you blow it – well, sayonara until next year, baby. But, Hanukah! Eight days! Every night! Really? I mean, who thought of that? Not the Maccabees when they decided they’d had enough of the Greeks.

I raise my hand in admission of guilt. You see, my husband and I disagreed over giving gifts. Him against me. How can you not give gifts to little kids? All those latke and Hanukah gelt (Hanukah chocolate coins) turned up at the lights, wishing for a little present just like the Playstation (I’m dated, I know) his friend, Avi, got last year. I won the argument. Over gifts. Kind of like winning a ticket to do all the dishes all the time.

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applefritters.jpgHomemade, doughnuts and fritters are the absolute best. They far surpass any "donut" shop doughnuts. When I'm in the mood for doughnuts but don't have the patience to wait for dough to rise, I like to make fritters. They fulfill my craving as fast as I can fry them. Their crispy fried exterior and fluffy interior are what make them a favorite sweet treat for many people. A batch of fritters is very easy to put together and they are great for any occasion. But they make a special treat for Hanukkah, which is celebrated with fried foods like latkes and fritters.

The interesting thing about fritters is that you can find versions of them in many cultures throughout Europe, Asia, and South America. Greeks have Loukoumades, which are balls of fried dough doused in honey syrup. The French have beignets. Italians have zeppole. In Spain and Latin America there are buñuelos. In India there are gulab jamun, balls soaked in spiced sugar syrup. In the United States you can find apple fritter rings, which look just like doughnuts. I'd like to think it possible that the original recipe for fritters made its way through all the different cultures, who then adapted it to their liking.

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cookie.gram.blue white2These 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.

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chewing_gum.jpgThe first thing I ever stole was a piece of Bazooka Bubble Gum. I lifted the small, red, white and blue rectangle out of the glass canister on the counter, wrapped my fist around it and shoved it in my pocket. My heart pounded against my chest with fear and excitement as I glanced around the store making sure no one had seen me. It was a rush. Taking it. Not getting caught. Pulling something off. Putting something over.

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