branched candelabrum) in celebration, they found only a single cruse of olive oil that had escaped contamination by the Syrian occupiers. Miraculously, they lit the menorah with the one-day supply of oil that somehow lasted for eight days until new holy oil could be prepared under conditions of ritual purity. To commemorate this miracle, Jewish sages instituted the festival of Hanukkah. At the heart of the festival is the nightly lighting of a special menorah called the Hanukkiah, using the shamash (“attendant”) candle to light one candle each night until all nine candles are ablaze. Special prayers accompany the lightings, and blessings and songs of praise are sung after the candles are lit as families exchange “gelt” (everything from jelly beans to coins, often made of chocolate) and gifts large and small. They also play “dreidel” (a game of chance played using a four-sided top) and share special holiday foods cooked in oil to symbolize the endurance of the Jewish people. In observant households, lighted menorahs are placed in windows to bring light to the darkness. “Hanukkah really is a celebration of the return of the light, maybe not considered a high holy event in the Jewish calendar but a very big deal to families and especially children,” explained Ina Eisenberg one evening not long ago when we dropped by Greensboro’s historic Temple Emanuel to learn about the “Festival of Lights” from half a dozen of the congregation’s longtime members and finest cooks. “Hanukkah is a celebration of memory and food, a time to light the menorah and say prayers and give small gifts, and certainly eat!” Eisenberg added with her distinctive Memphis-born laugh. “Purim and Passover may be the traditional cook-off holidays in Judaism, but the foods of Hanukkah are simple and fun. That’s part of their charm. They lift the spirit and bring people together. It’s all about sharing love and eating food you probably wouldn’t eat other times of the year. If I don’t make Mrs. Felsenthal’s famous matzo balls and chicken soup, for instance, which my mother got from Mrs. Felsenthal’s daughter decades ago, my husband is completely crushed. Ditto my challah bread.” Diane Goldstein, who owns a collection of 25 different kinds of menorahs, was prompted to remember the lights of Hanukkah in the apartment building where she grew up in Queens, New York. “Almost everyone in the building was Jewish and there was always a large lighted menorah in the lobby at the holidays — a really beautiful sight on a winter night — lighted menorahs, in fact, in almost every window of the building,” she recalled. “It was to great step into that lighted lobby and smell all sorts of wonderful things being made for Hanukkah — brisket and jelly doughnuts and, best of all, potato latkes!” Barbara Sohn, who grew up in Greensboro and is known not only for her baking prowess (“That’s my therapy”) and famous brisket recipe, added, “The unifying element in all these foods — of all Hanukkah cooking, in fact — is oil, a symbol of the oil that miraculously lighted the menorah. Everything from cookies to meat must be made with oil.” “In other words,” quipped Ina Eisenberg, “Hanukkah food is a heart attack on a plate.” “The old joke says that’s why Jewish men die early,” someone added, prompting a wave of laughter from the gathered cooks. Amy Thompson, Emanuel’s current president, explained that her annual tradition is to peel and shred 10 pounds of potatoes and soak them in water to prepare for the annual gathering she and husband, Joe, host for friends and family one night during the holiday. “They come for our latkes. Mine is a very traditional recipe and I’ve learned that’s what everyone likes best.” And though some cooks experiment with other main ingredients, such as sweet potatoes or zucchini, Thompson has found there ain’t nothin’ like the real thing. “Nobody in our house liked them as much as my original recipe. Hanukkah is somewhat like Thanksgiving in that regard. There’s a turkey and stuffing that your family really likes. And if you try something new, well, it never works out. You end up going back to the tried and true favorite. That’s our latkes.” Naomi Marks is a New Yorker who came to Greensboro to attend college The Art & Soul of Greensboro
after the Second World War, met her late husband, Arnold, and became a founding member of Temple Emanuel. She recalled how she and Arnold loved the family-centered quality of the holiday, teaching their three children, seven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren the traditions of the holiday. “The first night, my kids always got a nice gift, something they really wanted, followed by smaller gifts the rest of the week — books and puzzles and things like that. They also loved playing the dreidel game. When they got a little older, our kids always brought their friends home for Hanukkah, many of whom weren’t Jewish,” she recalled. “They loved the food and intimacy of our celebration. In some ways it is a nice complement to Christmas — the lights, the food, the sharing of gifts with family. My potato pancakes were very traditional as well. But I always made my own warm applesauce to serve with them. That’s what made mine special.” “I didn’t grow up with Jewish foods and holidays,” said Midge Pines, Temple Emanuel’s first female president, “because I was actually born into a Catholic family in New York. My mother, however, was Jewish, and when we moved out to Los Angeles I joined the synagogue. The fun part for me was learning the Jewish holidays and traditions along with my three young sons. These days, when you come to my house at the holidays, you’ll get pickled herring and a delicious kugel — which is not specifically a Hanukkah dish but, my goodness, you can’t eat latkes for eight days in a row!” The lively conversation of Hanukkah fellowship and foods shifted back to an unexpected moment of “darkness.” The delightful cooks of Temple Emanuel agreed that the lights of Hanukkah would perhaps be even more meaningful this year in the aftermath of recent tragic events in Pittsburgh, when a hate-filled gunman attacked the Tree of Life Synagogue, killing 11 members of the congregation during their Saturday morning prayers. Three days later, a gathering estimated at 2,000 people turned out for an impromptu rally against hate and violence at Temple Emanuel, an overflow crowd that filled the temple sanctuary and adjoining spaces to standing room only and spilled outside to hear reflections from a cross-section of the Gate City’s spiritual leaders. “It was a remarkable thing to witness,” said Amy Thompson. “People from every faith tradition in Guilford County showed up seemingly out of nowhere — Buddhists, Hindus, Catholics and Christians of all sorts — to show their support and help us grieve. It was mind-blowing and deeply touching to the Jewish community, sending a wonderful and much needed message of hope and solidarity — that there is always light in the darkness.”
Midge Pines’ Pickled Herring 1 6–8 ounce jar herring fillets in sour cream 1 hard-boiled egg 1/2 to 3/4 tart apple, pared, cored and chopped 1 medium onion, chopped 1/2 small can of red beets, chopped 4 tablespoons sour cream 2 tablespoons white vinegar 1 tablespoon oil 2 tablespoons sugar Salt and pepper to taste
Chop herring fillets in very small pieces, removing any skin, bones and scales. Chop egg, apple, onion and beets. Add all together with sour cream, vinegar, oil, sugar and seasonings. Mix well. Serve with crackers or cocktail rye. Keeps for three or four days. Do not freeze.
December 2018
O.Henry 57