In spite of the pleasure that they bring, latkes have always brought about a debate: shredded potatoes or mashed potatoes. As you can tell from my intro., I have already settled the debate for myself. I was raised with shredded potato pancakes and therefore, in my mind, that is the way they should be. And to take that one step further, the mashed kind were verbally bashed in our home. "If they aren’t shredded, they come from a mix," was the claim. What good, soul searching Jew would make latkes from a mix on Chanukah for all the kinderlach [children in Yiddish]. Oye Vay. It is just not done.

So when I started to get a little known for my cooking skills when we lived in Florida, I was asked to do a latke piece for a journalist friend of ours who wrote for a newspaper. Oddly, she wanted me to make them at her house instead of having the interview in my kitchen. By the time the interview was confirmed she had invited half of the people she knew (the other half were non-Jews)! Do I look stupid or what? But that was O.K. with me as my feelings are: if you’re going to make 12 latkes you might as well make 12 dozen, right bubula? There truly is a Jewish grandmother living inside me (and can she make a sponge cake? You bet your pupik!).

Anyway, then the potato hit the fan. "I only like the kind from mashed potatoes so will you make that kind?" she asked the day before the interview. " Poor baby!" I thought to myself. She was raised on latkes from a box! Well, I couldn’t burst her little Yiddisha bubble and as a chef (and husband and father, for that matter) I play by the waiter principle: "You ask for something and I bring it to you!" People really like you when you do that, it is amazing. Plus, I have a very peaceful household. It is simple: Just give everybody everything that they want; a no brainer journey to happiness.

Latke day came and I arrived like the schlepper of cuisine that I am with coolers and bags with contents ranging from sharp knives to steel bowls. At the front door she informs me that I have to use her stuff because she keeps kosher and we can’t have things from my hideously traif (non-Kosher kitchen in hers. ( A Kosher Jew can spot a bacon eater a mile away!) O.K., I get it. Now we are going to take pictures of Chef Harry making the kind of latkes that he hates without any of his tools in someone else’s kitchen. Gee, sounds fun, doesn’t it? Oh, and by the way, the group is up to about 30 now. At this point I was thinking I could run to the local deli and buy the latkes and drop them off on my way back home.

But Noooooo.( It is hard to write with intonation!) These schveetie pies wanted mashed potato latkes and they were going to get them and they were going to be the best dog-gone mashed potato latkes they had ever tasted.

I got busy. She had the kind of pots that you could almost see through (only copper pots can be handed down through generations and copper pots are for masochists) and her knives were as sharp as a two by four. The best one looked like it came from the steak house down the street but we know that could not be. She did, however, have a good potato peeler but, only one, which meant the little helpers I might have hoped for at this stage went scurrying away like little field mice. Charming. Have you ever seen a field mouse wearing a "kipah" (skull cap)? I have.

I had potatoes boiling on the stove and I felt it was time the hostess ( I was now basically catering her Chanukah party) was told my secret to a good latke: frying them in lard (pork fat). "JUST KIDDING!" I assured her but there was very little humor found in that on her end. I thought it was hysterical but what do I know? She did come back into the kitchen to serve as a witness.

So as the oil began to heat up, I started frying the little morsels to their golden perfect selves and a crowd did begin to gather. Soon, in the kitchen, there were people talking and eating and we were all having a wonderful time. It was as it should be and I was very glad I was there. When my journalist friend moved toward me with her latke missing only one bite I thought to myself, "Uh Oh, they aren’t like her bubbie’s latkes" but instead she said, "These are the best latkes I have ever eaten!" and gave me a big kiss. "Oh course they are," I only thought to myself. These are the first latkes she had ever eaten that did not start out in a box!

SHREDDED Potato Latkes

2 large baking potatoes

1 minced onion

3 large eggs, slightly beaten

salt and pepper to taste

oil for frying.

Make the latkes just before eating, if possible. Shred or grate the potatoes and toss with the onion and egg. Season with salt and pepper. Heat oil about 1/4 inch in depth in a heavy, non stick sauté pan. Carefully place a heaping tablespoon of the potato mixture in the oil and flatten gently. Repeat with more spoonfuls. Leave a little space between each latke as they will fry better and turn more easily. When very golden and brown on the bottom, careful turn and repeat with the other side, about 5 minutes per side over medium high heat. Drain onto paper towel lined tray and serve or hold in warm oven just until all latkes are fried. If you would like to make them ahead,. make them to this point only not quite so brown. Fry again just before serving. Makes 12 latkes.

Traditionally, latkes are served with applesauce as part of a meal with meat or served with sour cream as part of a "dairy" meal. The following are 2 quick, delicious alternatives from my book, Chef Harry and Friends, Sharing the Joys of the Table.

Place apples, lime juice and zest, sugar and cinnamon in heavy saucepan over medium heat. When contents begins to simmer, stir and reduce heat to medium low to simmer for 10 minutes, Stir in banana and simmer 2 minutes more. Pour into heat proof glass or ceramic bowl and serve warm. Makes about 3 cups.