LATKES, LATKES, LATKES
I've Fried Thousands of Latkes. Here's What Nobody Tells You.
The Ultimate Guide to Latke Mastery
Shalom from Israel,
The first latke I ever made looked like a hockey puck and could have been used as one. Twenty years and thousands of latkes later, I've learned every possible way to mess up - and fix - these crispy potato miracles. With Hanukkah around the corner, I'm ready to share everything I wish someone had told me before I began my journey to latke mastery - from the surprising history of this holiday staple to the hard-won secrets that transformed my potato-puck disasters into crispy golden perfection.
The Hidden History of Hanukkah's Favorite Food
But first, let's talk about the OG latke - and no, it wasn't made with potatoes. If you just want my hot tips on latke domination, scroll down!
The Pre-Potato Era
Picture medieval Europe, where cheese pancakes were the height of Jewish culinary innovation. Rabbi Kalonymus ben Kalonymus (c. 1286-1328) was the first to document these dairy delights, mentioning them for both Purim and Hanukkah feasts. The guy clearly knew how to party.
The potato was living its best life in South America until the 16th century, when Europeans finally discovered it and promptly decided it was poisonous. It took until the late 18th century for Germans to realize that potatoes weren't going to kill them and might actually make decent pancakes.
By the mid-19th century, potato latkes had become the go-to Hanukkah food in Eastern Europe. Why? Because potatoes were cheaper than cheese - one of those rare instances where poverty actually improved the cuisine.
The American Latke Revolution
When German Jews brought their potato pancakes to America, they didn't call them latkes yet. According to the late and great food historian Gil Marks, the first documented use of the word "latke" in America was in a 1916 issue of "The Jewish Child". Do I think that the three hours I spent looking for any issue of "The Jewish Child" was time well spent despite not finding any evidence whatsoever that such a publication existed? Yes. Yes, I do.
By 1919, even Aunt Jemima was getting in on the action, advertising their flour as "the best for latkes" in Yiddish newspapers. Because nothing says "traditional Jewish cooking" like a racially stereotyped pancake mix mascot targeting the shtetl demographic.
But the real game-changer was Crisco. In 1911, Proctor & Gamble pulled off what might be the greatest Jewish marketing coup of all time. In her book, The Story of Crisco by Marion Harris Neil, which was of course published by Proctor & Gamble, they got two prominent rabbis to declare their vegetable shortening kosher and then plastered the news all over the Yiddish press. Rabbi Margolies of New York even declared that "the Hebrew Race had been waiting 4,000 years for Crisco" - talk about overselling!
They marketed it as "parava" (neutral in kosher dietary laws), meaning it could be used with both milk and meat dishes. Special kosher packages bearing the seals of Rabbi Margolies and Rabbi Lifsitz of Cincinnati were sold to Jewish customers, though they assured everyone that all Crisco was equally kosher and pure. Ah yes, factory-processed vegetable shortening - just like our ancestors used in the old country.
They even published Krisko resepyes far der yidisher baleboste (Crisco Recipes for the Jewish Housewife) in 1933 - a bilingual cookbook that might be the first instance of corporate pandering I actually appreciate. The marketing was brilliant - they hired home economists to give cooking demonstrations and ran comic strip ads showing mother-in-laws suggesting Crisco as the solution to heavy cooking. Leave it to American marketing to combine processed foods with the two most powerful stereotypical forces in Jewish life: guilt and mother-in-law pressure.
Latkes became such a symbol of Jewish cuisine that by 1927, they were getting shout-outs in The American Mercury Magazine. In the 1930s, they even made appearances on The Goldbergs radio show which ran from 1929 to 1946. Though I imagine the sound effects guy had a field day trying to replicate the sizzle of frying potatoes. "Quick, crumple more tin foil!"
LATKE MASTERY 101: Everything You Knead to Know
Let's get down to business. After years of experimentation (and some spectacular failures), I've cracked the code to consistently perfect latkes. Here's my tried-and-tested formula:
The Basic Blueprint
Yields approximately 24 medium latkes
Ingredients:
2 pounds russet potatoes (crucial for their high starch content)
1 medium onion (this ratio is key for flavor and preventing oxidation)
2 large eggs
3 tablespoons matzo meal
2 teaspoons kosher salt
¼ teaspoon black pepper
Oil for frying (I use grape seed oil b/c of it’s high smoke point. Do not use olive oil.)
The Battle Against Moisture
I've learned that the battle for perfect latkes is really a battle against moisture. First things up: grate your onions along with your potatoes - not just for flavor, those onion enzymes prevent your spuds from turning that sad, unappetizing gray. Science!
Here's how I wage the moisture war: Get a clean bowl. Take a clean kitchen towel or cheesecloth, place your potato and onion mix and wring those suckers out like you're trying to get the last drops of water from a soaked swimsuit right into the bowl. But here's where most people mess up - they are only wringing once. Open up your towel and cheesecloth and loosen up the grated potato and onion mixture, then immediately close. Let them sit for 5 minutes and go at it again. Trust me, you'll be shocked at how much more water comes out. This double-wringing technique is what stands between you and that crispy exterior we all dream about.
The Secret Binding Technique
Now, about binding - I know plenty of recipes call for flour, but after years of experimenting, I'm firmly in the matzo meal camp. It's better at absorbing moisture. But wait - don't add it right away. Here's why: after that final squeeze, let everything sit in the bowl for 5 minutes. You'll see more liquid separate out. Pour it off BUT (and this is crucial) save it! At the bottom of that liquid is settled potato starch - scrape that back into your mixture. That natural starch is worth its weight in gold as a binder.
Pro Tips That Changed My Latke Game:
Temperature Control: Your oil should be exactly 365°F (185°C). Too hot? Burnt outsides, raw centers. Too cool? Greasy, soggy sadness. No thermometer? Drop a tiny bit of batter in - it should sizzle immediately but not aggressively.
Space: Give those latkes some breathing room in the pan! They'll crisp up better if they're not crammed together.
The Waiting Game: After forming your latkes, let them rest for 5 minutes. This allows the matzo meal to hydrate and helps them hold together better during frying.
The Rest & Serve: I've found letting them rest after on a wire rack after frying for 2-3 minutes actually improves them. The exterior gets even crispier, plus you won't burn the roof of your mouth. Win-win.
Troubleshooting Your Latke Life:
Falling apart in the oil? Your mixture is too wet. Give it another squeeze and add a touch more matzo meal.
Dark outside but raw inside? Your oil is too hot. Let it cool slightly between batches.
Not crispy enough? You didn't squeeze out enough moisture initially. There's no fixing this mid-batch, but now you know for next time.
Make-Ahead Magic:
Yes, you can make these in advance! Let them cool completely on a wire rack, then freeze in a single layer. To reheat, place them directly from frozen onto a wire rack over a baking sheet in a 350°F oven for 5-7 minutes. They'll be almost as crispy as fresh-made. Just never, ever microwave them unless you enjoy soggy latkes (in which case, we need to have a serious talk).
The Great Topping Debate
Let me conclude with the eternal latke condiment conundrum: applesauce vs. sour cream. This debate literally became a song - The Leevees wrote "Applesauce vs. Sour Cream" where they are fairly fervent in the thinking that it has to be a choice of the two. You can watch them perform this power pop-tastic song when they appeared on NPR’s Tiny Desk last year.
While I respect their musical take on Jewish food customs, I'm going to be controversial here: I go both ways. It's a spectrum.
Stay crispy,
Harry
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What’s stressful about latkes? Too early?
Loved this!!