Howdo Midlanders say ‘latke’?

AND SO Chanucah is upon us. Eight days to make merry. Eight days to eschew healthy eating and consume vast quantities of food fried in oil (“…this doughnut? But I have to. It’s my religion, you see.”).

The four-year-old is rehearsing for a Chanucah play but the one line she has to learn is causing disharmony in our household. “My family likes eating latkes” may seem innocuous enough to an impartial bystander — but alas, it is not so.

“My family likes eating latk-uhs,” coaches the other half while I stand behind him, vigorously shaking my head and waving at the child to make my point.

“My family likes eating lat-kees”, I correct her, the second he leaves the room.

This is what comes of a mixed marriage — him from down south and me from oop north. The gaping chasm between the two is never wider than when it comes to yiddishkeit (“what is this ‘yarmulkee’ of which you speak?” he asks, before hissing pointedly in the direction of the child “it’s ‘yarmulkah’ — and don’t you forget it”).

You say beigel, I say bagel — let’s call the whole thing off. Then there’s the whole issue of gifts to consider. I’m quite willing to hold up my hands and admit that this will not be the first year that we adults have eaten all the chocolate Chanucah gelt before the festival actually begins — and I can pretty safely say that it won’t be the last. This is probably why we choose to offer inedible presents instead.

“What would you like for Chanucah?” asks the husband on a daily basis, refusing to take “a lie in” or “a big pile of books that I actually have time to read” as an answer. “And how about you?” I ask in return, to which the answer is always “nothing”. The child, at least, is easier to please. After all, this is the girl whose sole fourth birthday request was a cold compress (indeed, she treasures it still). A girl whose most precious possessions are a broken credit-card holder (purloined from the bin and “only for grown ups or people pretending to be grown up”) and a selection of “tickets” (which are actually the cardboard inserts that came from a pack of five school vests)

Given that a bunch of doting relatives have already asked to contribute toward gifts, her wish list of “a Spiderman outfit, a pair of ballet shoes and some keys” seems easy enough to fulfil. I note that she has also made a list on my behalf — namely, flowers, chocolates, some new glasses (and what’s wrong with the old ones?) and a spoon. I’m particularly hoping for the spoon.

Phonetic differences aside, I like Chanucah. At a time of year when we are generally preoccupied with broken boilers and scraping windscreens, it’s especially pleasing to be diverted by lightness and brightness and warmth.

I like spending time with friends and family. I like watching my little one learning the traditions, stories and songs. And, most of all, I like lat-kees.

You say beigel, I say bagel. Let’s call the whole thing off