A Hanukkah Miracle: Gluten Free Latkes

sombrero boy lights menorah on Hanukkah

In December 1960, I unofficially borrowed the Ad Man’s best scissors for the event that would change my world.  I had been invited to share my first tree trimming duties at a neighbor’s house when I was five years old.  Having no idea what tree trimming meant, I wanted to be properly prepared with a sharp instrument just in case I had to actually cut the tree.  Turns out trimming meant something else entirely, and from that moment on I was completely sold on the all aspects of decorating a holiday tree, eating Christmas cookies, and sharing candy canes with both the tree and my pocket.   Hanging stockings was not only brilliant, but something I could easily do at home.

In fact, I was so smitten with the whole process that I campaigned mercilessly in my Jewish household for at minimum the hanging of the stocking ritual.  After all, filling a stocking with treats wasn’t apparently religious, something I reconciled in my mind and tried to sell to my unwavering parents.  Stubborn was my middle name and on Christmas Eve I took my biggest knee sock and hung it on the end of my bed since we were missing the all important fireplace.  Sadly, the next morning it was a dusty heap from falling on the floor during the night and as cold and empty as my little heart.  I vowed to never mention it again, but I also vowed that when I was grown up I would have a fireplace and a stocking that would be filled with treats no matter what.