Congrats to Carolle Beckham who recommended looking into G diapers! Using random.org, she was selected as the winner of the baby spoon. Carolle, I’ll be e-mailing your for your address.
Thanks everyone for your suggestions!
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At Wagamama in London. This bib is perfect for catching little bits of rice.
When I was pregnant with my first, I remember diving into the baby product world. I researched everything from car seats to high chairs to feeding utensils. My favorite finds are ones that were recommended to me by friends. Like for instance, this bib pictured above. When I first saw the Baby Bjorn soft bibs, I thought they looked so silly. Like, little plastic troughs for your little baby pigs. Then, I saw one in use and realized how amazing they really are. No scrubbing into deep vinyl pockets. No food falling into tiny laps. These bibs have been the perfect little food catchers for my little ones, and I love how easy they are to clean.
With my second, I stumbled upon the Boon Squirt Baby Food Spoon. Another goofy little contraption that I’ve grown to love. It’s pretty ingenious for mess-free traveling purposes. Simply put baby food into the spoon, and squirt. It’s been great when you don’t have two hands free. I’ve feed my baby boy with this many times in a car, plane or a football game.
Best feeding device for traveling.
Now that I’m expecting my third, I realize how many new baby products there are out there — and how unfamiliar I am with them. Like, stainless steel baby bottles. Has anyone used them? Do you like them? Does your baby?
So, I’m asking you dear blog friends. Do you have any baby product recommendation for me? They don’t have to be food related. Please share with me your favorite baby finds so I can become acquainted with the latest and greatest finds out there.
By doing so, you will be entered for a chance to win a Boon Spoon for yourself. I happen to have an extra laying around the house — new, never opened. It was meant for a baby shower present that I never gave and now the kid’s too old for it. So, I’m happy to gift it to one blog reader instead. Provided you live within the U.S. or have an A.P.O. address (Sorry international friends).
You have till Friday, February 11th 12:00 p.m. MST.
Please, let me know your suggestions.
Thanks for your help!
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Chinese Egg. On an everyday plate my mom used growing up. This is a special picture to me. Photo by Jonathan Canlas.
I had intentions yesterday to clean my whole house. Sweep the floors, wash the windows — start my new year (Chinese New Year that is) all bright and shiny and leave last years muck behind me.
Ideally, I would also be hosting my annual Chinese New Year party tonight. We would all wear red. The kids would color dragons. The house would be filled with good food and company and at the end of the night, I would pass out little envelopes filled with goodies.
But not this year. My floors are still dusty. Windows are no cleaner than they were last week. And there will be no food sharing at my home tonight.
I am just too tired. Too pregnant and too tired to cook. I know, I’m getting sick of me complaining about this last trimester too.
So instead of noodles and fried won tons, we will be eating a simple meal of Chinese Egg and rice. What is Chinese Egg and rice you ask? Well, I think it’s technically just a simple Chinese-style omelet.
It’s an egg dish my mom made growing up. Beaten eggs mixed with soy sauce and pan fried in oil. I came up with the nickname “Chinese Egg” when I was four and we’ve been using this nickname ever since. The word “omelet” might not have been in my vernacular then.
Maybe it was the Asian condiment that clued my young brain into knowing this meal wasn’t exactly American — but Chinese Egg, served over hot white rice, is my childhood equivalent of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
You know how most homes in the U.S. will have sliced bread, a jar of peanut butter and a jar of jelly? Well, we always had cooked rice. Soy sauce and eggs. It’s simple to make, takes only a minute to cook and it tastes like home.
Just like spreading jelly over bread requires no precise measurements, adding the soy sauce into the egg is eyeballed as well. The important thing is to get the pan hot, sizzling hot with oil before you pour in the egg. Oh, and when I say beat the egg, I mean it. Whisk the yolk and white till there is no separation of color and everything is a happy yellow/orange mixture.
Chinese Egg is also wonderful in a bowl of Jook. Sliced into thin strips for Pad Thai. Or, in moments like today, a great way to keep some Chinese traditions alive in my part-Chinese household.
And really. Last years muck wasn’t really that bad. My floors aren’t that dusty. I’ll let it hang around for another day or so.
So, whether your home is clean or not — happy Chinese New Year everyone. Gung hay fat choy.
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Chinese Egg
Oil for frying
2 eggs
soy sauce (or fish sauce)
Break the eggs into a bowl and beat together until the yolk and egg whites are incorporated. About 20 seconds. When mixed, add a few splashes of fish sauce or soy sauce. I don’t ever measure, but probably no more than a 1/2 teaspoon. It will be very, very salty if you put in more than that.
Next, heat oil in a frying pan on medium heat, adding just enough oil to generously coat the bottom of the pan. When the pan is hot, pour the beaten eggs in the pan. It will cook like an omelet, puffing up nice and fluffy and cover the entire surface of the pan. When the sides are beginning to look cooked, pull up the sides with a spatula to let the uncooked egg mixture run off. This will probably take one minute or so to cook.
Flip and cook on the other side until done, about 15 more seconds. Remove from pan and serve over warm rice, season rice with additional soy sauce as needed.
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I can eat a banh mi sandwich, all day any day. Photo by Jonathan Canlas.
I had a Banh Mi, or Vietnamese-style sandwich for breakfast this morning. We also had them for dinner last night. And around 2:30 a.m., I got out of bed and made myself one for a ridiculously late after-hour snack.
I blame the pickled carrots (Because I have an appetite for anything pickled this pregnancy), but I’m kind of obsessed with them right now. I feel kind of like a crazy person at the moment. Who eats sweet and tangy carrots, savory meats, and cilantro in a soft and crunchy baguette at 7 o’clock in the morning? Me, that’s who. (As I type this, that sentence made me hungry.) Looks like I know what lunch will be too.
Do you have obsessive cravings like this too? Pregnant or not? Tell me some of yours so I can get my mind off mine.
I’m trying to think of Super Bowl foods to make for this weekend, romantic Valentine’s themed dishes to blog about, even plan the menu for my dinner club next week . . . but all I want is Banh Mi.
Someone help me, please.
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Screen shot of C Jane Enjoy It.
I wrote an essay for Courtney Kendrick’s blog, C Jane Enjoy It, and it’s now apart of her Sunday Guest Posts Series. I’m so flattered she let me be a part of her blog. She’s so inspiring. That Courtney, she’s like the Oprah of bloggers.
The essay was published yesterday, and I’m happy how it turned out. Jon Canlas was generous enough to let me use one of his amazing photos of his recent trip to Hawaii to help illustrate it. I just love everything he does. Look at his gorgeous photo. Doesn’t the ocean look so beautiful and serene? It makes me want to go fishing. And I don’t even like fishing.
My piece is about me discovering a little something about my mom, and realizing how alike we were in one aspect. Growing up, sometimes I felt like she never understood me (doesn’t every teenager?), but this experience helped me see she was more aware of my feelings than I thought. Because, she in turn, felt those same struggles herself.
See the essay here. Reading at it again, it makes me really want to eat sushi. Reallllllly bad. Darn my pregnant diet restrictions.
Well, only three more months to go. Then I’m throwing myself an all-you-can-eat sushi party.
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Crispy Meringue-Topped Blondies. All photos by Brendan.
After I posted my “No Apologies” blog entry, the very next day I had to do that very thing. Not apologize for something sub-par that I made. It was torture. Handing over that mess was pure, grit-your-teeth torture.
I was assigned to bring treats for a church activity, and if wasn’t for that responsibility, I would have completely just canned the whole thing. I was tempted to forget about the hours I spent baking in the kitchen that afternoon and contribute something store-bought instead. But I couldn’t. Julia Child’s words to ” . . . grin and bear it, with no word of excuse” kept ringing in my head. What kind of person would I be, if I didn’t stick to my guns and keep my word to not apologize for my food? So, absolutely dying inside, I brought my disaster of a treat anyway.
I had to make this recipe to make up for my previous week's disaster. This is the dough before it's spread with meringue.
I decided to try a new recipe for blondies, it was from a chef I absolutely adore. I had no qualms making something of hers that I’d never attempted, her recipes have always turned out wonderfully for me. Well, not this time. Even with increased baking time, the batter never fully cooked. They were chewier than I expected. Perfectly edible, of course, but not at all what I envisioned. I made two large batches of these blondies, and both turned out the same. Horrible.
Because it was so dense, the bar was cloyingly sweet. Without a cakey crumb to hold it together, it was more like a poor excuse for a candy bar.
It was so frustrating, and I couldn’t even say sorry for my failed creation. I felt like pulling out my hair, I was so embarrassed. All over a few pans of baked goods.
Brown sugar meringue.
Well, this blondie disaster has been haunting me ever since. You see, I like blondies. I know there are some who prefer their chocolate cousin instead, but I think if done right, blondies are even better than brownies. Maybe I like them so much because people don’t make them quite as often. It’s becoming a extinct dessert.
Blondies are brown-sugary good, almost butterscotch-like. There’s no need to hide behind a chocolate batter here. In this bar, the vanilla is the star. It’s buttery golden brown, filled with bumps of chocolate chip goodness and other surprises like toffee and nuts. It’s so good, you can taste the vanilla.
Well, yesterday I have a chance to redeem myself. I hosted a D.I.Y. craft night at my home last night and served a blondie recipe that I know is fool-proof. A few years ago, I made it all the time. It’s just one of those recipes that unfortunately fell out of my rotation. That’s the sad thing about loving to try new recipes, sometimes the old ones are forgotten.
Both layers cook together in a short 20-25 minutes.
What I love about this treat is how different it is. Not only is it a blondie, which are becoming rarer and rarer now a days, but it’s a crispy meringue topped blondie. Talk about fancy.
But really, don’t be alarmed. Fancy meringue and all, it’s not difficult. Sure, you have to go the extra step to make the fluffy, marshmallowy meringue . . . but, with a standing mixer, whipping egg whites isn’t really that difficult.
Don't these meringue covered blondies look amazing right out of the oven?
The blondie batter is baked together with the meringue, and it all cooks in a short 20-25 minutes. Because it’s made in a jelly roll pan (i.e., cookie sheet with higher sides), the bars are thin, and this recipe makes a ton. Because it’s not as thick as a regular blondie, it’s not quite as rich. The meringue makes up for it though. It’s crumbly and sweet, and melt-in-your-mouth good. They are perfect to share at a book club (or in my case, craft club). Wonderful to keep all to yourself (stored at room temperature, they stay good for two days).
Maybe I’ll even bring them to my next church function too.
My blondie making nightmare redeemed.
Try them here:
Crispy Meringue-Topped Blondies recipe from Food & Wine.
P.S. If you have a good Blondie recipe, will you please share with me? Pretty please with brown sugar meringue on top?
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I am not sorry for serving this quiche, imperfections and all. Photo by Brendan.
Before I write most things on this blog, I have Brendan give it his editing eye. While I am the journalist in the family, he is the one with more attention to detail. Plus, he’s not a forgetful pregnant woman who leaves things out like commas and car keys locked in the trunk.
For my last post, I ask him, “So? What did you think? Would you change anything?”
He takes a moment to contemplate this question then looks at me. “I would stop apologizing so much,” he answers. “It’s okay if you haven’t blogged in awhile. You don’t have to keep feeling sorry about it.”
I was a little taken back. I didn’t realize I was so guilt-ridden. But then again, deep down, I know this about me. I apologize too much.
I know he was just referring to blogging, but I know my people-pleasing nature. I say, “excuse me” to the absentminded college student who rams her shopping cart into me at the grocery store. Never mind that my 5’11″ pregnant body isn’t a hard one to spot. I flash her a smile to say that I completely understand she didn’t see me standing next to the bright yellow lemons. I start lunch time by telling my kids, “I’m sorry you don’t like your green beans, but they are really good for you. So eat up anyway.” And most criminal of all, I am constantly apologizing for my food.
Does this sound familiar to you? Do you make excuses for the meals you serve?
In Laura Shapiro’s biography of Julia Child, she quotes Child saying,
” . . . I don’t believe in these women who are always apologizing for their food. If it is vile, the cook must grin and bear it, with no word of excuse.” (page 38)
Child became famous for telling cooks and hostesses all around to “never apologize.” While I haven’t practiced what’s she preached in the past, I want to take her advice this year. For 2011, I’m making it a goal to do this very thing. I’m not apologizing for the food that I cook (and I won’t even be sorry I’m making this resolution in the middle of January).
Take my Christmas Quiche for instance. It’s become a tradition these past few years to make it around the holidays. I was inspired by Thomas Keller’s Over The Top Mushroom Quiche that I found in Food & Wine magazine a few years ago, and I’ve been attempting to master this darn recipe for years now.
The quiche is nothing less than extraordinary. The egg custard is so silky and melt-in-your mouth smooth. What makes this divine is that Keller makes his quiche several inches high. It is marvelous to behold and even more glorious to taste. It’s a little bit of heaven for breakfast, even more wonderful for dinner. While my renditions of this recipe have always turned out well, I have never made this quiche without a mini-melt down. I have a love/hate relationship with this oven-baked dish. I love you quiche, because you taste oh-so-rich and divine with your buttery crust and savory goodness. I hate you quiche, because I have never made you without some sort of trouble. The buttery crust, you see, is my downfall.
It requires blind baking and for some reason, it never seems to turn out right for me. There are always cracks, the sides fall down and with it, my heart. Because if the crust doesn’t hold up, then the entire structure is off and all that custardy goodness runs through those tiny cracks. Oh you tiny cracks, how I’ve come to despise you.
I’ve come to the conclusion that my springform pan is too high, and this is why my sides collapse. I think. I haven’t brought myself around to purchasing another pan just to experiment with this theory. (However, this could be a great present for Christmas 2011. Hint, hint loved ones.)
Regardless of the heartache and endless hours in the kitchen (prepare yourself, this recipe takes an extremely long time to bake), I’ve always been rewarded with stomach-happy results. Sure, there might be a burnt custard layer on the bottom where my filling leaked out. Okay, so maybe the crust was a little thick this time. but despite these follies, my family has requested this pain-in-the-butt quiche every year. Every time I serve it, I stumble over my apologies:
“Sorry, I think I put too many leeks in it. Hope it’s not too over powering.”
“I don’t think there’s enough bacon. Well, I hope it still tastes okay.”
“I hate this crust and I’m never making it again. But man, does this taste good. Sorry it’s so ugly.”
But no more! I’m not feeling bad for anything I make. Well, at least not on the outside. Even if I know the rice is a little soggy or the dinner was served cold, I will own it and not apologize. Maybe by the end of next year, I might even master this darn quiche. Hopefully by then, I can have my rendition up for you to try. Until then, you’re welcome to tackle Keller’s quiche here. Maybe you’ll have better luck then me. (If so, please pass on your pointers.)
I won’t even apologize for recommending it.
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No-knead bread. Photo (and baked by) Brendan.
Unplanned, I took some time off from blogging. Please forgive me. Let me hand you my pregnancy card right now. The third trimester is upon us.
There was also the crippling sickness of 2010 that swept through our household like a ravenous storm, devouring any fun we had planned for our December festivities. I ate a lot of soup that month.
Then, for a short while, we had a week of no coughs. No fevers or flu and we experienced a quiet and happy Christmas. My little family even enjoyed a Christmas Eve dinner of cheese fondue with blanched vegetables and homemade bread. It was so memorable, it’s in the running for a family tradition.
Oh, the melted combination of Gouda, white cheddar and Gruyere. So blissfully indulgent to dunk hearty chunks of bread and crisp asparagus into smooth, savory cheese. Despite dropping $$ on the fancy imported dairy, it was the bread that made this holiday fondue so special. The bread you see, was homemade by the hands of my darling husband. It’s so delicious, I will even eat it plain (but will win your heart when it’s warm and spread with butter).
Brendan makes this round loaf of love quite often. I got him Jim Lahey’s My Bread cookbook for a present last year, and I have never seen my husband so excited to bake. I had no idea bread making was such a guy’s thing.
According to Brendan, this no-knead bread recipe he uses is super easy. So elementary, even the most inexperienced cook will find success every time.
To make this rustic loaf, you basically mix a quick dough. Let it rise for 12-18 hours, shape it and have it rise again for a couple more hours. Then bake. No endless kneading and whatnot. It’s takes very little yeast too.
It cooks in a cast iron pot and fills your home with the scent of goodness and love.
And how impressive it looks! A beautiful crispy, crunchy crust. Golden and brown and oh so inviting. The middle is tender and chewy, one bite and you’ll think only an experienced bread maker could produce such results. But no, don’t be fooled. This masterpiece can be done in your own home. In your own oven. By your own hands.
Or in my case, my own husband. Lucky me.
Try the recipe for yourself here.
I love this crunchy outer crust.
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Warm and bubbly, Funeral Potatoes are great any day. Photo by Jon Canlas.
Earlier this week, I was asked to contribute some food for a funeral. A neighbor of mine passed away and in the four years I have lived in this neighborhood, I’ve never met this woman. We were members of the same church, she was elderly, and that’s all I know about her.
Despite my distant association, I was happy to oblige. I was assigned a dish associated with most memorial services here in Utah–Funeral Potatoes. This home cooked hug, with its melt-in-your-mouth mixture of potatoes and cheese, soothed my own soul at my mother’s funeral so many years ago.
It’s been five years, but I can still remember returning from the cemetery and having the smell of something wonderful grab me by my coat collar as I walked back into the church. I recall shaking the snow off my black heels and clutching the arm of the closest person next to me.
“Sheela,” I whisper to my youngest sister. “We’re going to eat Funeral Potatoes.”
My seventeen-year-old sibling stops and takes a deep breath. With one long inhale she soaks in the savory aroma of slow cooked onions drifting down the hall. “Umm, potatoes,” she says. “I completely forgot about them.”
“Me too,” I answer back. I am still holding on to her arm. With the promise of food in our bellies, the somber mood shifts, and we enter the large reception room with hungry anticipation.
A long buffet table is already set, awaiting our arrival. Slices of ham are arranged in swirly spirals on large platters. Bowls of green salad tossed with tomatoes and olives sit next to a baking sheet filled with white dinner rolls. In the very center of the table, the star of this meal, a large assortment of Funeral Potatoes.
The beauty of this hearty-enough-for-a-meal accompaniment, is that not one dish is exactly the same. Every family has their own version, their unique spin on this classic potato dish. Some are topped with crushed cornflakes. Others, salty cracker crumbs and cheddar cheese. One dish may have scalloped potatoes, another shredded potatoes; some others use tater tots.
Behind me, I hear the awed murmurs of my California relatives. They are impressed with such an organized spread. This is very likely the largest gathering of Asians to ever visit the small town of Lava Hot Springs, Idaho.
Standing in line behind me, my cousin Denny looks overwhelmed at all his choices.
“Basically, it’s a potato casserole,” I explain to him. “Covered with cheese, and lots of creamy soup.” A fireman working in Oakland, Denny is eying a lumpy tater tot rendition with caution.
“Which one do I pick?” he whispers back.
“Don’t worry, they are all good,” my sister Teela jumps in. As to prove the validity of her statement, she takes a scoop out of the tater tot variety. “The best thing to do is to try them all.”
Encouraged by Teela’s example, the rest of us decide to do the same. I scoop four different potatoes on my plate and my husband Brendan fills his plate with five.
As my cousins and siblings sample the bountiful varieties of potatoes and cheese, funeral potatoes gain at least 12 more fans and I see my mother’s family go back for seconds. Then thirds. At the cousin table, we disclose our favorites, debating the merits of each version. Denny likes the breadcrumb topping, crumbly and rich with melted butter. I prefer my potatoes sliced thin, into round scalloped moons.
During lunch, people come by to offer their condolences and congratulate me on my pregnancy. This baby would have been Mom’s first grandchild. I take another bite of hot potatoes. Perfectly soft and buttery in my mouth.
“Okay, no. I change my mind,” Denny exclaims, interrupting my thoughts. His eyes close in bliss as he lifts another spoonful of potatoes to his mouth. “This one? With the different kinds of cheese on top? My new favorite. I gotta get me some more.”
He gets up and heads back to the buffet, our laughter following him. These potatoes have helped us smile. Somehow, I have managed to find a little fun in this funeral. I savor the moment and take another potato-y bite.
Thinking back to this memory, I can’t help but feel appreciation for the members of my church and community who helped ease my sadness that day. I know the burden that planning a funeral can be. I felt lucky today to have had the chance to give back, to help provide comfort to another mourning family with a dish of my own Funeral Potatoes.
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Note: Have you had Funeral Potatoes? What is your favorite variety? While I will happily eat whatever is given to me, when I make it, I like to be as natural as possible. I use homemade cream of celery soup instead of the usual condensed kind. Shred my own cheddar cheese. Cornflakes are great, but homemade breadcrumbs? Even better. It’s hard to go wrong with something this rich and soothing.
Funeral Potatoes
recipe inspired by my mother-in-law Norma
serves 12-15
5 lbs. Yukon Gold Potatoes
2 teaspoons kosher salt, divided
1/2 small yellow onion
1/2 cup melted unsalted butter, divided
1 pint (16 oz.) sour cream
2 cups cream of celery soup
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
1/2 cup homemade breadcrumbs or crushed cornflakes
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Wash and peel potatoes, cut into 1/4 inch circular slices. Add 1 teaspoon of salt and cold water to a large stock pot. Next place the cut potatoes. Heat on high till boiling, then reduce heat to medium and cook for about 20-30 minutes, or until potatoes are easily pierced with a fork. Drain potatoes and place in a 13″ x 9″ pan. Set aside.
Next, using the small holes of a grater, grate the onion. The onion will be very juicy, very mushy. In this dish, I like my onions in the background. Grate enough for three tablespoons, if you have any remaining onion, reserve for another use.
In a medium size bowl, mix the onion, 1/4 cup of melted butter, sour cream, cream of celery soup, remaining teaspoon of salt and 1 1/2 cups of the cheese together. Pour the mixture over the cooked potatoes.
Mix the remaining 1/4 cup of butter with the breadcrumbs (or cornflakes) and sprinkle over top of the casserole. Bake for 35-45 minutes or until hot and bubbly.
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Note: My good friend Marilyn Pike is guest writing today about Hanukkah. She’s not Jewish. But she cooks a great Potato Latke and does own a Dreidel. I hear she still puts it to good use ever year. Marilyn started hosting an annual Hanukkah party while in college, and it was at her get togethers that I learned about all the beautiful Menorah. The story of the Maccebees. Tasted my first crispy latke.
I’ve asked her to tell us about why she chooses to celebrate Hanukkah, some activities she does in commemoration, and to share her famous Potato Latke recipe. I know we are already days into this Jewish Holiday, but luckily it’s eight days long. So, don’t worry. Even if you won’t be lighting the Menorah on each day, you can still appreciate this festive time of year.
Potato Latkes with apple sauce and sour cream. Photo by Marilyn Pike.
Hanukkah — The Festival of Lights
Guest Post by Marilyn Pike
Mrs. Marilyn. A Gentile girl that celebrates Hanukkah.
Mrs. Friedman, the Kindergarten teacher of the class down the hall, made me my first potato latke. She cooked them up on a electric skillet right in the classroom and served them with applesauce. It was delicious.
Back in the day when I went to elementary school in the Washington D.C. suburbs, we learned about and celebrated Christmas and Hanukkah. I was one of those Christian girls who felt a twinge of jealousy, because my Jewish friends were receiving eight days of presents. I thought Hanukkah was the best holiday in the world!
After those elementary school days, I didn’t think much of Hanukkah. My family moved a couple of times and I had far fewer Jewish friends. It wasn’t until I was at college in the Rocky Mountains that my fond childhood memories came flooding back. I was living with my younger sister at the time, and we wanted to host a Christmas party for our friends. But we were already invited to a handful of Christmas parties; how was ours going to stand out in the crowd? That’s when I remembered Hanukkah.
My sister and I hosted our first Hanukkah party in December 2002. We heated up the oil, shredded the potatoes, and spun the dreidel. We shared the story of the Maccabees — the reason Hanukkah is celebrated — since most of our friends knew little about the holiday. And from this one party, a family tradition began. This year, I’ll be celebrating Hanukkah in the Midwest and my sister in Hong Kong. Over the years we’ve come up with some festive ideas to toast the festival of lights.
Here are some ideas on how to host your own Hanukkah party from a Gentile girl who really likes the holiday.
First, comes the food. Every great party needs great food. Hanukkah’s food greatness centers around oil — as a reminder of the miracle that happened at the temple. There’s quite a bit of frying that goes on during the holiday, which I love. I always make my childhood favorite — potato latkes. Other Hanukkah recipes include variations of latkes — using veggies like zucchini or sweet potatoes instead or with the traditional potato; the sufganiyot — a jelly-filled doughnut — try Martha Stewart’s recipe; or sweet rugelach — another Martha recipe.
Some of my favorite Hanukkah activities include the following:
1. Spinning the dreidel (don’t forget the chocolate gold coins). Learn how to play here.
2. Telling the story of the Maccabees. (I like to read about the Maccabees from children’s story books.)
3. Having guests write down what Hanukkah means to them and then sharing with the group.
4. Listening to favorite Jewish musicians like Barbara Streisand or Neil Diamond or to Utah Senator Orrin Hatch’s Hanukkah tribute.
5. Sharing in a “Hanukkah Harry” gift exchange.
6. Lighting the menorah (I have a beautiful one I received a few Christmases ago from Mrs. Veeda).
7. Playing “Name that Famous Jew” — a quiz game where guests see a picture and clue of famous Jewish people, and whoever guesses the most right wins a fabulous Hanukkah prize. Check here or here to find out who’s Jewish.
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Potato Latkes
recipe by Marilyn Pike
makes about 30-40 latkes
8-10 potatoes, any kind (although latke experts recommend yukon gold)
2-3 onions
salt
pepper
3 eggs
1/4 c. flour
oil for frying (any will work, but peanut oil will make your home smell less)
Grate (or use the food processor to shred) the potatoes and onion together. (The onion will help the potatoes from turning colors.) Place shredded mixture in a colander and press down on the mixture to remove any liquid. (I also use paper towels or a dish towel to help soak up some of the liquid.)
Once thoroughly drained, return mixture to a large bowl. Add salt and pepper. (I like to put in a lot of salt.) Add eggs and flour and mix everything together. if the latkes aren’t holding together when putting them in the fry pan, add a little more flour to the potato mixture. and this recipe will make about 30-40 latkes, depending on the size
In a skillet, heat 2-4 inches of oil on medium heat. Once hot, make a ball of the potato mixture and then flatten into a pancake shape. Add to the hot pan. (You can make the latkes as big or small as you like.) Fry 3-4 minutes on each side, or until golden brown. If the latkes aren’t holding together when putting them in the fry pan, add a little more flour to the potato mixture. Drain on a paper towel or a cooling rack. Repeat until mixture is gone. Add several potato latkes to your pan if you have the room.
You can also bake the latkes on a cookie sheet lined with a Silpat or greased piece of tin foil. Bake at 400 F until golden, about 20-30 minutes. (I like them fried best; the baked ones never get as crispy.)
You can make the latkes ahead of time (which may help clear the air before your guest arrive!) and heat them up in the oven at 250 F for 10-15 minutes before serving. I like to serve my latkes with homemade applesauce and sour cream.
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