Happy Chanukah, friends. It's that special time of year when we light the menorah, spin the dreidel, and most importantly, nom on latkes. Not just any old potato pancakes, but my mother's potato pancakes. Deelish! You didn't think i was going to say i made them, did you? I do help with the shredding of the potatoes and therefore, my knuckles. But having one's skin sloughed off is a small price to pay for these delicious puppies!
Now this is what a latke looks like, people! Edges all askew, the perfect little nubby for plucking that no one will know is missing. Paper towels absorbing the grease that ensures we all go home smelling of latkes, which isn't a bad thing.
I don't participate in the applesaucing or the sour creaming that most people garnish latkes with. My brother and I like a good ol' mound of ketchup. Sometimes this is met with shock and awe. Ketchup. On latkes. I say why not, you put ketchup on fries! Is this not an even better variation of the fry, one that comes but once a year!? Keep calm and ketchup on, eh? Make me up a printable to market around blogland and i'll be set!