Each year before Hanukkah, which begins this year at sunset on Sunday, I wonder why I labor so over potato latkes. I grate the potatoes and onions by hand, often skinning my knuckles. I squeeze out the water so the potatoes fry crisper and won’t discolor — but sometimes they still do.
I tasted a mashed potato latke recently and knew I had found my ideal: no grating, no squeezing, no discoloring. So easy that I wondered why cooks take the more difficult path.
“I grew up eating mashed potato latkes; they taste better than any other food on earth,” said my cousin Judy Regensteiner, whose mother, Dorothy, makes grated potato latkes at Hanukkah and mashed potato latkes every Friday night throughout the year.
“There is the texture, the flavor, the association with family, and I love them,” she added. “They have such a magical quality.”
I started with her recipe and played with it a bit: I wanted to really taste the potatoes, so I roasted instead of boiling them. After mashing them, I sautéed some shallots, added an egg and threw in some dill and parsley before molding and dusting the patties with panko bread crumbs for crunch.
I fried them in coconut oil, the new Crisco. Because, of course, the point of latkes at Hanukkah is not the potato but the oil. What matters is the recounting of the miracle of one night’s oil lasting eight nights in the temple over 2,000 years ago.I still like grated potato latkes because they are traditional, nostalgic and crispy. But I like this baked potato version because you get the flavor of the potatoes, punched up with the pronounced seasoning of the dill and the parsley and the flavor of almost-caramelized shallots.
You can have both at Hanukkah. After all, there are eight days, and everyone wants potato pancakes every single day.
Nema komentara:
Objavi komentar