shalom!

Oh my goodness, this has been a week if ever there was one. I know I left you all hanging about my job situation, but I am going to have to leave you on the line just a little bit longer because I'm still in limbo and I hate getting ahead of myself. It invariably ends in disappointment for me. You may rest assured that if something comes through, you all will be the first to know. But until then, you're just going to have to sit tight.

Anyway. . .

The Hanukkah season is upon us! And nearly over, actually. While I love to recognize the Festival of Lights, I usually just use it as an excuse to eat chocolate coins and revel in my shiska-ness.

However, being as I am in Almagro, an area with one of the largest Jewish populations, well, ANYWHERE (oh, you don't believe me? Well guess what: the Abasto shopping center, about 4 or 5 blocks from my apartment, is home to the ONLY kosher McDonald's outside of Israel. Behold, I have proof), I thought I might put a

little more effort into celebrating these eight crazy nights. And days.

So I looked up latke recipes. Potatoes and onions and eggs all fried up into little pancakes, with sour cream and applesauce on top? Sign me up. You better believe I made all of it myself. . . except the sour cream.

And the next night, I decided to take it a step further. I made blintzes. It's been a long time since I've had them, and the last time I did, I was not a fan of soft cheeses. That has since changed. So I fried me up some crepes and stuffed them with ricotta and cream cheese, and then I fried 'em again. And then I threw some strawberries on the top. BAM. Wait, what's that sound? Is that the sound of my shiksa stock rising? Pay attention, Jewish mothers, because I would make a fantastic daughter-in-law.

And no, this is still not a cooking blog.