Embracing our glutenous rivals

This afternoon, in an event sponsored by the American Whig-Cliosophic Society, a debate of considerable importance will occur. Two two-person teams will throw down over what seems to be a pressing concern: to determine whether the latke or the hamantasch is the superior Jewish culinary staple. Baked versus fried; spring versus winter; side versus dessert; this is a debate that goes beyond just comparing potato pancakes and fruit-filled cookies. Much is at stake, and watching the duel play out will be nerve-wracking and phenomenally exciting.

However, I come to you this day with a plea for reconciliation. Some would argue that this fiery debate will need to be resolved in favor of one side or the other; I would like to counter that this binary conclusion need not transpire. On all days — but especially this day, a day on which this crucial issue is at the front of our minds — we must breach the divide between latkes and hamantaschen and, regardless of our personal preference, allow a place for both treats at the table.

Latkes and hamantaschen are many things, but importantly, both are symbols of victory over an oppressive anti-Semitic force. We prepare latkes, those delicious fried potato concoctions, in celebration of Hanukkah, a holiday commemorating the Greek Jews’ successful revolt against a local governor who had banned Judaism and defiled the Second Temple in Jerusalem. Similarly, we cook the fruity, crumbly hamantaschen in celebration of Purim, which in turn commemorates the survival of the Persian Jews in the face of a genocide planned by Prime Minister Haman (“hamantaschen” translates literally to “Haman’s ears”).

In this sense, by appreciating both latkes and hamantaschen without separating them by quality, we are observing the Jewish people’s survival in the face of tyrannical government after tyrannical government. When we claim that one food is better than the other, we run the risk of devaluing the history of the supposedly lesser item. It is counterproductive to assert that one item — and therefore that one history — is superior; we must acknowledge that both carbohydrate repositories hold an essential place in our own tradition and that comparing their historical significance is a fruitless endeavor.

Moreover, it is imperative that we allow the variety that both foods offer to improve the quality of our supper experience. Latkes and hamantaschen serve distinct purposes at the dinner table, and both functions are essential to a good meal. Latkes are a near-perfect side dish to a hearty main course of brisket or an excellent meal on their own, their greasiness and saltiness accentuated perfectly by a scoop of applesauce or sour cream. Hamantaschen, on the other hand, are a succulent dessert and an outstanding palate-cleanser after a savory entrée as well as a bite-sized treat which can be consumed in small quantities or in bulk. When preparing a meal, one need not choose between the two — in fact, even though it would go against tradition, it would be possible to construct a meal with both heavily involved.

Even if one were only able to eat one of these two creations at a meal, there’s still no reason to hyperbolically rail against one. As a parallel, every year at my family’s Rosh Hashanah dinner we are given a choice of appetizers: sweet, gelatinous gefilte fish or soft, salty liver. Some of us (myself included) firmly stand by the gefilte fish; others support the liver. However, we all recognize that having both available at the table is the best option — not only does that allow each diner to choose his or her favorite, but it also provides for a diversity of appetites, which reflects and encourages a greater diversity of lived experiences and personalities. Everyone is unique, and everyone may have his or her own personal preferences, but all of these preferences are valid and important to support.

I anticipate a rousing debate, and I’m sure each side will argue eloquently and passionately for the cause in which it believes. However, the needless schism between latke and hamantasch is unhelpful: there is no reason why we cannot make room for both on our table. Though this debate can help us appreciate both sides in ways we had not yet considered, at the end of the day, regardless of which caloric treat we prefer, we can still feast together. Let us put our differences aside and embrace our glutenous rivals; what matters is not which food is better but that year after year the foods are still prepared.