For dinner on the first night of Hanukkah my mother always started with a romaine lettuce salad topped with scallions and Lawry's French Dressing. Then there was a brisket of beef with carrots and mushroom gravy. But the real stars of the meal were the latkes served with apple sauce and sour cream.
My mother's latke recipe was handed down from her mother: grated potatoes, eggs, flour, a little salt and pepper. She'd fry them in vegetable oil and serve them as soon as they were browned. So simple and yet the result was so soul-comforting: crispy on the outside, soft inside, with just the right amount of oil and salt. There are few dishes that are as satisfying as food and so emotionally evocative.
Like most kids, my sister, Barbara, and I waited eagerly at the table. As soon as the plate full of latkes was passed around, we emptied it. I kept count, because I didn't want her to have more than I did. They were that good. When my grandmother was in town, she and my mother made Hanukkah dinner together. Their relationship was competitive to say the least, so there was always considerable discussion about the right way to make the latkes: flour vs. matzo meal; onions or no onions. My grandmother liked to point out that she had given my mother her latkes recipe but my mom insisted that she hadn't remembered it correctly.
I don’t make a lot of kugels. I don’t make them because my kids don’t really eat them and as much as I want to eat the whole tray, it would take me a month to work off the calories. My grandma used to make them all the time. What I loved most about her kugels were the left overs. 
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. 
My friend KBell makes socks for a living. But it’s what comes out of her kitchen that’ll really knock your socks off – the world’s most perfect brisket.
As a child in Hebrew school, I was taught the story of the 