Hart's Latkes
Latkes seem like the perfect year-round food. They’re made with always-available ingredients and have flavors neutral enough but textures defined enough to go well with just about anything. And yet, here we are going buck wild for the stuff no more than 8 nights a year. I guess we’re all just a bunch of big suckers for nostalgia. For me, abstaining for 357 days means the once-per-year treat becomes a hallmark of togetherness and festivity.
I’m not here to tell you how to live your life. Make latkes whenever you want. I for one will only be making them in and around Hanukkah, which is why this post is coming to you about a week too late (or 51 weeks early for you optimists).
The recipe comes courtesy of a place in Brooklyn called Hart’s. I’m told that in the before times, Hart’s was a cozy, convivial neighborhood restaurant...the kind of place that’s just right for special occasions and casual bites out alike. But due to **2020**, they’ve transformed their space into a sweet market. There’s a table strewn with dirt-dusted fruits and vegetables, a dark corner piled with natural wine, a fridge brimming with special dips and hot sauces labeled with blue tape and ready to roast chickens and shelves lined with imported things like dry pasta from Italy and tin fish from Portugal plus The Best Granola I’ve Ever Had and She Wolf sourdough et al. It’s a one-stop-shop for creating your own at-home magic. During the two-ish months I just wrapped up in Brooklyn, Hart’s was where I visited most and it provided me with a sense of place in otherwise unfamiliar territory.
I’ve heard that in a normal December, a buzzy candlelit Hart’s is booked up and busy slinging latkes bedazzled with caviar and smeared with crème fraîche. Sadly, I was merely passing through, spending a couple Covidian months hunkered down in a nearby apartment, feeling pretty cold and very far away from home. When Hart’s started posting pining Instagrams of their Hanukkah parties of yore, it got me feeling both bummed that I wouldn’t get to partake and homesick for my own family gatherings which were Canceled this year.
That’s when I found out Hart’s was sharing their latke recipe, a perfect marriage of FOMO and nostalgia! After hearing all about these magical potato pancakes, I was ready to discover the secret ingredient (schmaltz folded in? a dash of MSG?) only to find that the ingredients were simply latke ingredients made in a very traditional latke way. Shred the potato and onion, get all the liquid out, add some eggs and flour and fry the hell out of it. It’s just simple enough to be genius, and just what I needed at that moment.
I hope one day to return to Hart’s when it’s no longer an adorable market filled with delicious things but instead a bustling restaurant with the lights turned low, the tables crowded with friends and lovers and plates and glasses and an ambient buzz of people being together. I also yearn for the day when I can stand over a frying pan for hours in my kitchen while friends cycle by and I feed them crispy potato pillows that they eat before they’re cool enough and my house smells like oil for so many days because of how many friends I hosted inside without masks and how many latkes we took down shamelessly, obsessively, methodically.
It’s that day that I’ll come back to this recipe and the irony is not lost on me that I’ll probably feel unfathomably nostalgic for the quiet and stillness and bizarreness that was 2020, the future hanging in the balance, all of us wallowing but maybe reveling a little in our shared misery, wishing the nightmare was over and we could all go back to normal, knowing full well there’s no such thing.
Maybe then I’ll remember this quote from Milan Kundera in the last chapter of a book borrowed from my Brooklyn sublet the day before we left. “There would seem to be nothing more obvious, more tangible and palpable than the present moment. And yet it eludes us completely. All the sadness of life lies in that fact. In the course of a single second, our senses of sight, of hearing, of smell, register (knowingly or not) a swarm of events and a parade of sensations and ideas passes through our head. Each instant represents a little universe, irrevocably forgotten in the next instant.”
Eat these latkes and revel in their crispy, wispy shreds, their fluffy insides and their golden sheen. Eat them and think fondly of the past, wishing for the future and try your hardest to appreciate the present.
In the meantime, please support your favorite small businesses in every way you can! Order takeout, tip generously, buy gift cards, get some merch, say thank you and mean it.
(this recipe is inspired by the Hart’s one. the ingredient ratios are theirs, the process is my own)
Ingredients:
4 russet potatoes
1 large yellow onion
2 eggs
1/4 cup flour
Salt and pepper
Canola oil
Peel and grate the potatoes and onion using a cheese grater or the grater attachment of a food processor.
Place the shredded potatoes and onion in a large, clean kitchen towel. Pull the edges of the towel together and squeeze out all the liquid into the sync. Add to a large bowl.
Add eggs, flour, salt and pepper and fold it all together with a fork. The mixture should hold together pretty well -- if it’s too loose, add a bit more flour.
Heat a half-inch of oil in a large skillet. Add one shred of potato and if it sizzles and bubbles, the oil is ready!
Create very loosely packed golf ball-sized balls and place in the skillet. Use a spatula to flatten a bit. Repeat with a few more, being careful not to crowd the pan.
Fry them until the bottom is golden brown, then flip, press lightly with a spatula and fry the other side.
Once you’ve achieved your desired crispiness, place on a paper towel-lined plate to drain excess oil. Sprinkle with flaky salt.
Repeat with remaining mixture, adding more oil as needed.
Eat immediately, or keep warm in a 250 degree oven until you’re ready.
Serve with sour cream and applesauce or sour cream/crème fraîche, salmon roe and fresh dill.