The Vegas Voice 12-20

By: Dianne Hahn / Back in the Days
grew up with an image of Santa in my
I Christmas dreams. The whole caboodle: the
red suit, the white beard, the jolly laugh, and the
twinkle in his eyes.
I couldn’t wait to sit on Santa’s lap each year!
I had my Christmas list memorized and eagerly
awaited to rattle it off. “Were you a good little girl
this year?” he asked.
Oops! My confidence wavered a tad, but he never
disappointed me. There was magic in my life!
It never occurred to me that it was impossible to
circle the world, in a single night, in a sleigh filled
with millions of gifts - never mind that reindeers
don’t fly! My mother and I baked cookies for Santa every year, and we
left carrots on the front porch for the reindeer.
Christmas music filled the air, and it was like welcoming an old
friend back. We only heard the songs once a year and we sang along.
Then there was the excitement of shopping for a Christmas tree, getting
out the treasured decorations, and putting up the lights.
16
The Magic of Christmas
Latkes - Fried White Potatoes
By: Susan Goldfein / Susan’s Unfiltered Wit
As much as I gripe about the holiday season,
there’s one time-honored December
tradition to which I happily succumb. As we near
the eight days of Hanukkah, I’m overtaken by an
urge to cook a traditional dish - potato pancakes, affectionately known
as latkes.
But first, one must consult the calendar to verify its precise arrival.
Unlike Christmas, Hanukkah has no consistent date.
Rather, each year, it tends to hover over the month. Not being a
student of the Hebrew calendar, its arrival always seems to be completely
arbitrary, though I’m sure that’s not the case.
But, like most Jewish holidays, it’s never on time. It’s either early
or late. In fact, I can recall one year when Hanukkah was so eager to
arrive, it actually collided with Thanksgiving.
Back to latkes. For the uninitiated, a latke (pronounced lat kuh,
with emphasis on the lat) may appear to be nothing more than a fried
potato pancake.
But the little latke is so much more. It’s a potato pancake with a soul.
The making and eating is a treat for all the senses.
Therefore, once a year, I throw food caution to the wind, swallow an
extra statin, and prepare to enjoy starch cooked in oil.
Like all things Jewish, the proper preparation is not without
controversy. Traditionalists claim the only authentic way to make them
is grating the potatoes by hand.
Since I don’t believe a preferred methodology is discussed in any holy
text, I stand with those who grate by food processor. The outcome is
December 2020
Back in the day, we had a tree decorating party every year. I carried
that tradition on. What could be better than eggnog, good cheer,
precious family and old friends?
I’ll never forget the year our daughter was married. She and her
husband moved across the state and spent her first
Christmas away from home. On Christmas Eve she
called to wish us a Merry Christmas.
Before she hung up she whispered into the phone.
“I miss you, mom. I feel I should be home with all
of you.”
Tears in my eyes! My heart skipped a beat - how
I missed her! “We love and miss you, too!” It’ll be
our turn to have Christmas here next year. Enjoy
your time there.”
Ah, but wait! Now we go to their house to see the grandkids experience
their Christmas…and the magic continues!
Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Happy Kwanzaa, and a Happy
New Year to all!
A former schoolteacher, Dianne also writes for children. Presently
she has six kid’s books available on Amazon.com. You can also
see her on SCA-TV.
just as good, and one’s knuckles
remain intact.
My tactile fix comes from
squeezing liquid from the
shredded potatoes, then
combining with the other
ingredients. Want to relive the
gratification of playing with
your food? There’s nothing like being up to your elbows in potatoes,
onions, eggs, and flour (or matzo meal, if you prefer).
And what can compare with the aroma of frying the latke? Nothing,
except for eating the latke. Garnish as you like – apple sauce, sour
cream, even caviar.
And voila! The dull potato has been elevated to a luxurious treat.
There is a downside to this otherwise joyous experience. I must repair
the damage that was my kitchen.
But not even the splotches of potato starch that landed on counters
and floor, and the splattered oil on my stove, can detract from my
satisfaction. And the secondary benefit? The memory of the experience
due to the lingering odor which permeates the house long after the
eight days are over.
And once everything is nice and tidy, I know I’ll forget the mess and
do it again next year. Whenever Hanukkah decides to arrive.
Susan Goldfein’s newest book, How to Complain When There’s
Nothing to Complain About, is available at Amazon.com, BN.com,
Read her blog at: www.SusansUnfilteredWit.com. Email Susan:
SusanGoldfein@aol.com.