advent-hannukah t-minus five: 8 crazy party planning tips

I’ve been throwing Hannukah parties for about fifteen years, with the occasional gap. Like in 2007 when Jonah’s birth and first weeks of life had me too busy to fry anything.

Over time, I started to keep records of what I buy, to try to streamline this juggernaut somewhat. I think in the next life I should pick a different holiday because, seriously, frying up 15-30 pounds of potatoes in one day is enough to drive anyone crazy.

So here are my master notes and tips, in case you should be moved to follow in my footsteps (you know, moved like someone has a gun to your head and says here, invite almost everyone you know but not EVERYONE because that would be CRAZY, but pretty much everyone because how can you not after all, although you will leave a few people out just to try to save yourself and feel incredibly guilty about it, and make greasy fried frisbees of love for them.)

1. Two words: Pot Luck. Over the years, this has begun to require a little extra encouragement. Even before the economy tanked, I noticed a definite fall off, around 2004, in the pot luck contributions category. People get older, they couple up, suddenly it’s two folks bringing one dish. And G-d forbid if they reproduce. That’s four or more people bringing one dish — if they can remember to bring it or even have a hand to shlep it along with the diaper bag and toys. So you’ll nudge a little, send reminders. I make sure to get commitments. I cannot do this party alone. And I cannot emphasize enough the enormity of the undertaking that is the making of the latkes.

2. Timing: Afternoon to evening. I’ve experimented with Brunch over the years and I have to say it sucks for three reasons: a) not enough time in the morning to get the pre-party batches cooked; b) people tend to drift in and out more, leaving you with a longer, thinner party, and c) you need darkness for a really good candle lighting ceremony. The drawbacks to afternoon-evening is that you are still throwing a long party but your friends with kids will be glad to get some socializing in before bedtime, and if you don’t have kids yet, the second round nighttime friends will be just as big a crowd and just as fun as the first round. If you’re me, and you have a kid with a bedtime, you make an end time of 8pm and hope for the best. That’s what we’re trying this year and my optimistic take on this is that people will be able to so easily schedule a second holiday party that night, if I have anyone left in my life who still goes out at night.

3. To Evite, or Not to Evite: This year, I’m taking a two-pronged approach. I sent out a save the date email warning folks to look for the evite. Evite just helps me organize the RSVPs. It’s also a habit. And it gets lost in people’s junk mail folders so follow ups are necessary. And some people have to be called. A printed invitation is a lovely idea. I think I did that one year before I had an email account.

4. Dreidels: Get A LOT of them. Over the years, friend Naomi and I have combined our dreidel stashes so that now we pass the lot between us (having annually coordinated our parties so as not to throw them on the same night). Some people will take them home as souvenirs. That is to be expected. Associated tip: Buy gelt in bulk. The foil-covered chocolate coins that the kids will use for betting and eat way too many of. One bag per kid, plus extras for adults.

5. Setup: Clear out the house. Put everything that is on a horizontal surface under it or in the closet. Tablecloths go everywhere possible. Place trash cans or trash bags in every room, all over the house.

6. Food and Drink: People will want coffee and tea. Oddly, my notes declare that nobody was interested in Coke or Diet Coke (whichever year that was — maybe the brunch year?). Also fruit — with the exception of tangerines — and cheese, pita chips, and nuts were not popular. For a potluck party of 50, only one big tub of hummus is needed.

7. Go Shopping: After a certain number of years, I have accumulated a cabinet full of paper plates, cups, disposable dinnerware. Not all of it compostable/recyclable since it is, as I mentioned ACCUMULATED and so it pre-dates my whole earth-awareness thing. Anyway, the key points are: people like small plates for appetizers and dessert, and there are always never enough forks and too many spoons.

For latke supplies: 1/2 pound of potatoes per person. For 30 lbs of potatoes, get 8 lbs of onions, and 2-1/2 gallons of oil. I use corn oil. I’d like to try something else but every year I chicken out because corn has always worked for me, even though it is SO BAD FOR THE PLANET, and stuff. Also get 2-3 cans of matzo meal, 4 dozen eggs, 3 jugs of applesauce, 4 tubs of sour cream, and 6 foil roasters. And salt, ground pepper, and baking powder.

For the recipe and cooking instructions, see my 2007 Hannukah post.

8. Enlist Help/Fry the Latkes: Because I’m super lucky, I have a dear friend (Hi Jenny!) who volunteers every year to be my sous-chef. She’s got the scars to prove it and yet she promises to show up and help me again this year. Could. Not. Do. It. Without. Her. Period.*

Generally, I’m on cusinart/ingredients duty and we take turns frying with Jenny handling the lion’s share. It tends to be the kind of thing one gets in a groove with. In addition to an apron, rubber boots are a good idea to handle the splatter.

My method involves getting everything out and ready to go about three hours before the party, and then frying up batches which I store on paper towels, layered in giant foil lasagna/roasting pans, covered with foil on top. If we get way ahead, a few bins sit in the laundry room while others stay warm in the oven. One year I put a pan in the lower drawer/broiler of my gas oven and the paper towels caught fire. So don’t do that.

Of course the fresh latkes taste the best. So people who come early get the ones that come right out of the frying pan. And then as the party goes on, it’s diminishing returns. I serve the freshest ones first, and by the end of the party, I’m reheating the early ones but there’s a tipping point of lukewarm reheated greasy goodness where the time it first became a latke ceases to matter. They’re all warm enough, crunchy enough, excusably chewy. Even the cold ones are good. Sounds impossible but it’s true.

I’m sure there’s another way. I know people who hire cooks to fry the whole time. Maybe in my next life? I hear tell of freezing batches days in advance. Caterers have a trick, I imagine. My way is the only way I do. It’s what my parents did.

* I should point out that an unofficial part of the latke preparation process is the thing that happens just before I get the ingredients set out, wherein I curl up on the kitchen floor in the fetal position and hyperventilate for a few minutes at the prospect of it all. And then Scott and Jenny un-curl me and we get to work.

And speaking of Scott, if he didn’t set up the house, hang the decorations, and do everything else possible to support me, I’d still be on the kitchen floor. Hannukah came six months into our relationship, we were just starting to move in together, and he was thrown into co-hosting (a little bit without his permission exactly). While he stomped around a bit in the process, in the end he took it like a champ in the end and cemented his spot in my heart.

If you can afford to hire a house cleaner to come the next day, I highly recommend it.