Flour on the Floor: Hanukkah Rugelach

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I was not raised in the Jewish faith. When I met my husband, my understanding of Hanukkah was limited to this: eight days, eight gifts. I was just out of grad school and newly-employed but still broke. I got him practical, inexpensive things and spread them out over the days.  First, a fluffy pillow for his bed. Second, another pillow. Third, new sheets (metered out a pillowcase at a time). Looking back, I can see that these gifts were not really for him. He had slept fine for years in his flat-pillowed bed with no top sheet; I was the one who hated it.

Through the years as I’ve gotten to know him (and myself) better, I have amended my gift-giving habits to better reflect his desires. I look for things that feed habits or hobbies that I don’t necessarily endorse. For example, I have gifted him poker chips, handkerchiefs, a pipe, a cigar lighter (and, no, my husband is not 90 years old), and a flask. Yet this year, faced with eight days to fill, I realized that his many vices are still too few. When I discovered that he was feeling the same way about the task of buying for me, we took a step in the right direction and decided not to give each other gifts.

It turns out that this decision on our part is actually more reflective of the true intent of Hanukkah. It was never conceived as a gift-giving holiday. Hanukkah is a minor Jewish holiday that has become, at least in America, widely celebrated. Most would attribute its status elevation to the importance of Christmas in our society. How can Jewish parents compete with the flash of Christmas’ more commercialized trappings: blinking trees, a jolly man taking toy orders, and a reindeer with a glowing schnoz. And even non-Christians understand that the “reason for the season” is the birth of Jesus Christ. But, Hanukkah (or is it Chanukkah, or Chanuka?) suffers from a bit of an identity crisis.

Though, we have our own bits of consumer-related flotsam--Hanukkah Harry anyone? (“Oy to the world!”)--the holiday is not embedded in the American consciousness the way that Christmas is. There are no poems about visions of dreidels dancing in childrens’ heads as they nestle snug in their beds. How can we make the festival of lights fun without turning it into Chrismukkah?

Hanukkah is held in remembrance of the Jewish defeat over the Syrian Greeks and the re-dedication of the Temple in Jerusalem after its defilement (good luck making that fun for kids!). The story goes that there was enough oil to burn the menorah for one night but, miraculously, it stayed lit for eight. Personally I am a fan of any holiday that glorifies oil, specifically through the frying of potato latkes and jelly donuts, but I understand that few children thrill over food.

So, yes, we are giving our kids gifts but have chosen to make two other things the cornerstones of our holiday this year: charity and time together. The charity bit is something I struggle with year-round. I think that generosity of spirit stems from a satisfaction and gratefulness for what you have; then from that springs the desire to give to others to help meet their needs. When I’m chastising my kids on a daily basis for refusing to share their [voice-changing microphone, glow-in-the-dark yo-yo, any other crappy toy] with each other, it’s hard to imagine them engaging in large-scale altruism.

I recently had this same conversation with a mom-friend and she expressed her own dismay with her kids' lack of understanding of the larger world we live in. We floated ideas--soup kitchen? taking a collection? donating items?--but each seemed like short-term, one-time, shot-in-the-arm tries at instilling a sense of charity.

My friend finally hit upon an answer that feels right--let the temple guide us in finding opportunities to involve our kids in giving back. After all, each week, they encourage children to bring in tzedakah (a Hebrew word generally translated simply as “charity”) in the form of food or financial donations. The temple also routinely sends out emails chock-full of opportunities for children to give of their time and still-developing talents. I usually assess the week’s calendar crammed with chess, hip hop, basketball, and ballet and hit “delete” thinking that we’ll have time for that later (just like I’ll have time to finish a whole book in that mythical later that moms cling to).

But Hanukkah is reminding me that the time is now. We begin by encouraging the children to voluntarily give up one night of Hanukkah gifts and to instead choose a charity they like and donate either funds or needed items. Both chose to do this and both chose a pet shelter as the recipient (side note: my daughter hasn’t had an original thought in five years and went along with her brother's choices). It's a start.

For our second Hanukkah focus, my husband and I tried to choose presents for our kids that foster time together, like family games and a fort-building kit. This past year has found an extension of that family time in my baking project. That is true for Hanukkah too; my daughter and I decide to bake rugelach together for the holiday. It's a complicated-looking twisted pastry stuffed full of nuts, raisins and preserves. The Baking Illustrated steps seem daunting: mix the ingredients for the sour cream and cream cheese-based dough, make it into a log, cut it into four pieces, roll it out, then freeze it. Whew.  

Once we have our frozen flat, round dough ready, we spread apricot jam on it and sprinkle it liberally with sugar, cinnamon, and nuts. It is a messy process and by the end, our kitchen looks like a sugar hurricane has blown through. We track jam and nut pieces on our shoes into every room in the house. It’s a boon to the local ant economy.

Next we cut the topped dough using a pizza cutter and roll each triangle piece starting from the fat end then bake. We find them at their most delicious straight from the oven, but they are good later too. The crust is crisp yet soft and buttery and the interior offers a bit of tart from the apricot jam, crunch from the nuts, and sweetness from the rest. We share them with neighbors and friends. Happy Hanukkah indeed.