🥔 Latkes: Golden, Crispy Disks of Joy 🤩

Potato latkes are the Hanukkah hero we don’t talk about enough. Sure, there’s the whole miracle-of-the-oil situation, but fried potatoes are the real miracle most of us can relate to on Sunday evening. Traditionally, latkes symbolize that miraculous oil lasting eight days, which is basically the ancient equivalent of your phone's battery staying at 3% while you stumble home from Molly Magee's, drunk-dialing every ex between swipes on Tindr. Latkes are humble, they’re crispy, and they unite generations in the time-honored practice of arguing over whether they should be served with applesauce or sour cream (the correct answer is… whichever prevents your uncle from lecturing you about Maccabees again).

​

Historically, latkes weren’t always potato. 🥔 Medieval Jews actually made them from cheese! 🧀 Later, potatoes took over because Europe was having a “we put potatoes in everything now” moment, and the Jewish community looked around and said, “Yes. This. We can fry this.” Today, they’re still a beloved symbol of resilience, celebration, and the legal right to consume enough fat to make your cardiologist weep. They’re also one of the few holiday foods that can unify nearly all Jewish denominations… except for the small faction that insists latkes must be exactly 2.25 inches wide or the holiday doesn’t count.

​

Ava’s Super-Simple Latke Recipe
​(aka: The Eight-Minute Miracle, because we know you’re busy)
​

• 4 large potatoes
• 1 yellow onion
• 2 eggs
• 1 Tablespoon flour
• Salt and pepper
• Oil for frying (we’ve got grapeseed, avocado, or anything else your bubbie whispers about)

​

1. Grate potatoes and onion. Try not to grate your knuckles; we cannot emphasize this enough.
2. Squeeze out excess water like you’re wringing out your frustrations with Mountain View parking lots.
3. Mix with eggs, flour, salt, and pepper.
4. Heat oil in a pan until it shimmers like a menorah flame reflected in your neighbor’s window.
5. Fry spoonfuls until golden and crisp.
6. Serve with applesauce, sour cream, or the pure satisfaction of knowing you made something delicious out of root vegetables.

🥔 We Decided For You: It's Applesauce 🍎

Applesauce may look innocent, but it plays a crucial role in the sacred ritual of “How do we prevent these blisteringly hot latkes from burning our mouths clean off?” Its cool, sweet contrast is the culinary equivalent of a soothing hug after your fourth pan of sizzling potato shrapnel. But applesauce isn’t just a practical choice. Eastern European Jewish communities embraced it because apples were cheap, plentiful, and blessedly dairy-free. Which made applesauce an easy match for any meal; no need to tiptoe around the whole meat-and-milk situation that already keeps half of Jewish cuisine up at night..

​

But its significance goes deeper than “sweet stuff good with fried stuff.” Applesauce brings balance. Latkes are rich, salty, and fried in enough oil to make the ghost of your cardiologist materialize. Applesauce swoops in like a fruity superhero, adding brightness and cutting the heaviness. Its sweetness has also become a cultural marker of Ashkenazi tradition: a reminder of harvest seasons, resourcefulness, and the long history of making do with what you had (especially if all you had was a giant sack of apples).

​

So yes, applesauce is the perfect latke partner because tradition, chemistry, and Jewish law all said so… but mostly because it tastes phenomenal. And if anyone at your holiday table insists it must be sour cream, simply smile, offer them a dollop of applesauce anyway, and let them be wrong in peace.

🌎 Around the World, Around the World 🍰

A friendly reminder that all December, we’re packing the front of Ava’s with international holiday goodies of every imaginable kind. It seems like more arrive daily… we’ve got our elves working overtime. It’s basically what Bizzarro Santa’s kitchen would look like: instead of leaving presents, he steals a little treat from every house on Earth to whip up a global snack buffet. Swing by and explore the sweet, the strange, and the “wait, is this legal to import?” delights of the season.