Latkes not the only oil-involved food for Hanukkah

I l i ke l at kes. All ki nds: starchy potato, sweet potato, zucchini, cheese, apple, leek, even vegan and gluten-free ones. But for too long in this country, Hanukkah has been all about the latkes — and I’m just about over it.

Sure, there are the games of dreidel, the chocolate gelt and sugary doughnuts with the fancy Hebrew name sufganiyot. But it’s almost as though guests won’t even k now t hey ’ ve a r r ive d a t a Hanukkah par t y — t he first of the Jewish holiday’s eight nights falls on Christmas Eve this year — unless they’re greeted by that telltale oily fried smell. From synagogue preschool parties to an annual celebration at the White House, the potato pancake is the guest of honor.

At their best, latkes are a crunchy, savory delight, just snatched from hot oil, perfectly golden brown and ready to be topped with sour cream or applesauce or, even better, eaten straight up. But even if a distant cousin from the supermarket freezer case shows up, a bit soggy and barely warm, it doesn’t seem to matter. People feel compelled to consume.

Such iconic food status is hard to dismiss — not that I want to. But latkes aren’t the only oil-involved foods appropriate for the holiday.

Truth is, the latke is part of a wide variety of traditional potato pancakes found in nearly every European cuisine. However, it’s a surprise to many that Sephardic Jewish cuisines from the Mediterranean and the Mideast a l s o have t hei r own versions of potato pancakes. Most of those are ser ved ye a r- round a s wel l a s a t Hanukkah, which remains a minor holiday in many Jewish communities, away from the increased “competition” with Christmas found in the United States and Europe.

Potomac resident Ellie Dayan traces her mother’s family back over 2,500 years in Persia (now Iran). Dayan was born there, coming to the States in 1996 after her son was born. For Hanukkah, she makes kookoo sib zamini, the traditional Pers i a n ve r s i o n o f a p o t a t o pancake. Unlike for Ashkenazic latkes, the potatoes are cooked before being grated, which makes for less time in the oil, and more eggs are used in proportion to the potato. The pancakes are served with lettuce, sliced tomatoes, pickles and often fresh baguette.

Jews from Iraq have a similar di sh, explains Rabbi Haim Ovadia of Rockville, Maryland’s Magen David Sephardic Congregation, except the cooked potatoes are mashed with onions, which sometimes are fried first. Like the Persian version, the Iraqi patty leans toward an omelet or frittata.

If you’re looking for alternatives, it’s easy to find your way to some versions of syrup-soaked, deep fried dough or fritters perfec t for Hanukkah. The batter can be dropped into hot oil in clumps or thinned out and squeezed into shapes, like the spirals of Iraqi zangoola or the fried squiggles of Syrian zalabieh — both thinner, crisper relatives of funnel cake. Latin America has its buñuelos, India its jalebi. For Persian Jews it’s zoloobiah, while Italian Jews serve anise-flavored frittelle di Hanukkah.

I inherited a taste for bumuelos from my father’s family. Sometimes called the Sephardic or Turkish beignet, the hot, fried bumuelos are dipped in honey-sugar syrup instead of getting a beignet’s dusting of confectioners’ sugar.

Expanding my horizons of Hanukkah foods even more, I realize that frying isn’t required.

Olive oil-poached Turkish green beans, an omelet or frittata and even a salad with olive oil dressing or a really good olive oil for dipping crusty bread could all bring welcome variety to any Hanukkah celebration. Suddenly, cheese-filled blintzes browned in some oil and butter also seem a perfect dish for this holiday.

While I am reconciled to latke love, this year I plan to invite other food friends to the party, establishing some new Hanukkah traditions with a full roster of co-stars alongside that iconic latke.