My annual craving for latkes is back
Latkes!
“It's a big call, but these sweet and tasty Jewish treats are surely the best thing you can make with potatoes”, writes Sapeer Mayron.
Every year around this time, I start to long for crispy, oily, perfectly salted levivot.
I could probably make them any day of the year, but for me, levivot belong in December.
Levivot (in Hebrew) or latkes (in Yiddish) are the greatest thing a person can make with potatoes, onion, egg and breadcrumbs.
It's a big call, and you're welcome to disagree, but piles of grated potatoes, with the life squeezed out of them and fried to perfection, have a kind of life- giving energy that I don't get from their closest relatives, rosti or hash brown.
Around December is the Jewish month of Kislev, which is when we Jews celebrate the festival of Hanukkah. There is, as always, a long story about what we're celebrating, and why we eat the food we do.
But my favourite explanation is also most applicable for nearly all Jewish celebrations: "They tried to kill us. We won. Let's eat."
Sam Lewis is the Kosher Deli manager and makes latkes in the "British" style.
Hanukkah lasts for eight days. We light a candle for every day of the week until we have a gleaming hanukkiah of eight candles and their helper, the Shamash, on our windowsills: proud reminders that we can overcome adversity.
So who tried to kill us? The Seleucid Greeks and King Antiochus, in the year 168 BCE (probably). We won? Yes! A small Jewish army called the Maccabees somehow overcame Antiochus' army and retook the temple in Jerusalem.
But, as the story goes, the temple had been desecrated, and needed cleaning up. My ancestors could only find a single small jug of ritual oil, enough for maybe a day of light. But instead, it kept the candles burning for eight whole days - a miracle!
We enjoy oily foods like levivot to honour that miracle.
Since moving to Auckland from Wellington, I have learned that I need not wait until Kislev to eat latkes. There are at least three eateries offering them every day of the year - I don't even have to stand at my bench, painstakingly grating a sack of potatoes myself (because one never makes just one or two latkes).
First up, the sweetest little latkes I have ever seen can be found at the Kosher Deli on Auckland's Grey's Ave.
Deli manager Sam Lewis explains that he makes latkes in the "British style" - they're tightly packed and the potatoes are so finely grated the pieces are almost invisible. They're just like the ones he grew up with in London, England. Lewis said the deli his family shopped at for their Sunday bagels and lox (salmon) always had latkes on offer too, which they would often eat with brisket.
For him, the deli first and foremost serves the Jewish community, but is a chance to introduce his childhood favourites to the wider public.
Next up are latkes that look a little more like what I grew up with - a kaleidoscope of potato and onion, lathered with toppings. Some bits are always more burnt than others - that's what gives them that perfect mix of soft and crunchy.
Andrew Mackle, former chef at Federal Street Delicatessen.
At the Federal Delicatessen, I meet up with Andrew Mackle. Like me, he grew up a Jewish Kiwi - latkes at Hanukkah with Christmas on the horizon. But unlike me, he is a professional chef, and until recently was part of the Fed Deli team.
He grew up in a blended home - his mother's side is Jewish - but he drifted somewhat from his culture, like many of us do as teenagers, before coming back to his roots when he joined the Federal Delicatessen team.
"We had an aunty who made the bagels, an aunty who made the challah, the uncle who was the best at latkes. Everyone stayed on their turf," he laughs.
"Sadly my uncle Moish, who was king of latkes, he passed away when I was quite young so I never really got that knowledge from him."
His favourite latke doubles as the perfect hangover cure, piled high with pastrami and a fried egg.
Mackle has even experimented with using kumara instead of potato, but the texture is a little too soft when cooked, he said.
Finally, Ima Cuisine. Tucked away on Fort St, chef and owner Yael Shochat has done something modern Jews can always be grateful for: made them gluten- free and vegan.
Her trick is simple. Grate your potato. Squeeze the water out of it, and lay the gratings on a plate. The plate goes in the microwave - cook it in there for a minute.
What comes out are par-baked potatoes that are naturally a little sticky, and ready to be formed into a perfect leviva (singular for levivot) without the need for all those breadcrumbs and egg to bind.
"My grandmother used to use flour and egg, but right from the beginning I had coeliac customers," Shochat says.
"Gluten-free is really important. But this was trial and error, I think the idea of precooking them came from a recipe I had for Irish pancakes with potato."
Like me, Shochat always had latkes at Hanukkah, expertly made by her grandmother and mother, and in their household it came with apple sauce.
"It's a strange thing, the spring onion and apple sauce, but it's good - it's great," she said.
By now you'll be wondering how to make them yourself. So, just for you, I've put a recipe for a plateful of perfect latkes/levivot on stuff.co.nz.
Chag sameach - happy holidays!
Caption: Sam Lewis, left, makes latkes in the "British" style; Yael Shochat, top, makes them gluten-free; and Andrew Mackle, above, uses them as the perfect hangover cure, piled high with pastrami and a fried egg.
First published in Stuff - used by permission
Images: RICKY WILSON, LAWRENCE SMITH/STUFF