Dozens of varied hanukkiahs crowded a glass-topped table. All burned bright with eight candles each, flames dancing along with the congregation as they sang and clapped to the songs of Hanukkah.
Some Jews celebrate Hanukkah and only Hanukkah, and my red-and-green tasseled hat goes off to them. But others of us come from either mixed heritage or mixed messages; we celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah with widely divergent measures of each.
If there's a religious holiday that seems to encourage letting your hair down, it must be Hanukkah. At least that's how things looked over at the Martha's Vineyard Hebrew Center.
Some unpack prolific menorah collections, many make latkes, others
make doughnuts and most buy presents - but whatever a
family's traditions to prepare for Hanukkah, hundreds of Islanders
will light the first menorah candles at sundown this evening, the
beginning of the eight-night Festival of Lights.
LETTER ON THE WIND: A Chanukah Tale. By Sarah Marwil Lamstein. Illustrated by Neil Waldman. Boyds Mills Press, Honesdale, Pa. 2007. 32 pages. $16.95 hardcover.
I come from a family where everyone assumes a role in the kitchen. My brother mans the grill, you can usually find me elbow deep in sugar and butter, my father makes a mean Bolognese sauce, and my mother is one of those cooks who can whip up something delicious with whatever is in the fridge.
But there was one Hanukkah a few years ago where no matter what we did, dinner was bound for disaster.
As a child, the closest I ever came to Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup was through a slide of Andy Warhol’s iconic print in an art history class; except for once a year, Hanukkah, which began this week. It’s the key to my great-grandmother’s brisket recipe, and last weekend I found myself elbow deep in it as I made the dish for the first time by myself.
