For your amusement (I hope) and edification, here’s the instructions on making latkes from my book, God-Optional Judaism (available from csjo.org or in digital form from iishj.org).
How to Make Latkes
The Three (or maybe Four) Great Controversies
Latkes are not the kind of food you have an actual recipe for. They’re more the kind of food your grandmother makes, and when you ask her how much flour to put in, she says, “enough.” Luckily, it’s really really hard to make a bad latke.
The first big controversy is whether to grate or to grind the potatoes. My family ground the potatoes in what I assumed was a potato grinder, but found out, when I was grown, was really a meat grinder. I like grated latkes better, but the easiest thing is to do them in a food processor. Makes the onions less tearful, too. Grate or grind or food process at least one huge potato per person.
Now it is time to argue about how much onion to put in. My father argued for one onion per potato, but this is excessive, even for an onion lover. If you really like onions, put in one onion for every two potatoes. If you think of onions as a condiment, rather than as the staff of life, put in one for every three or four potatoes. Grate or grind or food-process the onions along with the potatoes. This will keep the potatoes from turning an unpleasant black color. You can drain off the liquid that gathers at the bottom of the bowl. Add a little bit of salt. No, a little more than that. Okay, that’s good. Add one egg. Yes, one egg. My father always claimed that no matter how many potatoes you use, you need one egg. Out of filial respect, I always add only one egg to my latkes. Sometimes they fall apart, though, and I’m sure it would be okay if you added more. Add a handful of flour or matzah meal. Stir it up and if it looks too liquidy, add some more. Better to have too little than too much, though; you don’t want floury latkes.
Put at least a quarter inch of oil into a heavy frying pan and heat it well. Lift out a large spoonful (or handful) of latke batter and squeeze it out in your hand. Plop it into the pan and shmush it flat, so that at least half of its height is covered with oil. (Oh, no! another controversy! My editor insists that she does not shmush her latkes!) When the bottom is brown, turn it over. After browning the other side, drain it well on paper towels and eat it with sour cream or applesauce.
Which to use? The third – or maybe fourth – great Hanukkah controversy! Galitzianers (those from an area of southern Poland) like sweet food and use applesauce. Litvaks (those from Lithuania) use sour cream. I suggest trying a little shatnetz (the mixing of unlike things, which is forbidden by Jewish law) and eating some of each on the same plate, or even both on each latke.
For your amusement (I hope) and edification, here’s the instructions on making latkes from my book, God-Optional Judaism (available from csjo.org or in digital form from iishj.org).