Yay, crank erika!

Poor G was so tired he slept right through his nebulizer treatment. I'm guessing it doesn't matter if he is awake or asleep while breathing in his meds.

I'm intrigued by the idea of a latke recipe. (Mainly because I don't know anyone who makes latkes who didn't learn how to make them from either their mother or grandmother, so nothing's ever measured or written down. And the secret ingredient is ALWAYS schmaltz. Or goose fat, if you're very very lucky.)

I know what you mean-- but this one was given to me by a friend who got it from a magazine, then tinkered with it some, then passed it on, and then of course, I'm constantly tinkering. These are so consistently perfect though, and so different from any other latkes I've had, I just can't imagine making any others.

1/2 cup all purpose flour
2 tsp sugar (I used Splenda bc I'm out of sugar. Worked fine.)
2 heaping tsp curry powder (MORE SPICE BABY YEAH)
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp brown sugar
1 heaping tsp ground cumin
3/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper (like hotter with slow burn as you take another bite? Add more.)
1/4 tsp pepper
scant 1/4 tsp dry mustard

2 eggs beaten (Kinky!)
1/2 cup milk (we used Lactaid; lactose is not change I can believe in).

4 cups grated peeled sweet potatoes

oil for frying

Mix the dry ingredients (flour through mustard). Stir in eggs and milk until blended. Add sweet potatoes and fold with a spatula or your fingers to coat thoroughly

Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. I used enough vegetable oil that it was probably between 1/4 and 1/2 inch deep.

Drop heaping tablespoonfuls into oil. Let set for about 30 seconds, then press gently to flatten out. In my big honking skillet I could fry about 6 or 7 at a time.

Fry for 3-4 minutes per side until golden brown. Add more oil if you need it.

Drain on rack covered with paper towels. Try to avoid eating while they're piping hot (ow. Good luck with that).

NOTES:

I tried making bigger than heaping-tbsp size, and they were soggy in the middle, so keep to the smaller size for browned, crispy latkes with chewy centers. The batter will get soggy at the bottom so stir every now and again to mix the potatoes with the wet stuff.

We're serving with honey mustard, chipotle mayo, drizzled honey and whatever else I think will taste good.

Oooh - those sound delicious but I'm pretty sure my great-grandmother would rise from her grave and beat me with a wooden spoon if I dared called them latkes.

Heh-- well, I got them from a nice Jewish girl, so I have no such issues.

And my grandmother's already haunting me, so I've got no issues there, either.

No, seriously, the woman is haunting me-- because how else can you explain that the Priests of the Sacred Heart keep finding me, no matter where I move? Last three moves, I swear, and they've tracked me down. Also, nuns. Nuns have been tracking me and sending prayer cards and calendars.

That has my grandmother all over it.

Well, thanks, sj, but shoot me if I get into talk radio.

Agreed.

if life were a really sick romcom, we'd probably be fucking already

May I be the first to say, the idea of John McCain having sex is thoroughly ewwwwww.

More seriously, yay on getting published!

Yes, wrod. Especially now.(at one time, he was an attractive pilot, although I probably still wouldn't.) Thanks...the usual suspects showed up to trash it, too. I only responded to one or two...with all due respect to Mr. olbermann, I don't quite need so much "batting practice"

Thanks for that recipe, Barb. I'm totally trying them.

No, seriously, the woman is haunting me

HA. You can take it.

Years ago, when the wicked step-sister and I were making arrangements for my father's funeral we came to a massive parting of the ways. The things he had arranged for himself (while he planned my stepmother's funeral...which I did not know about for 4 years) were, well, de-ranged. He bought a 4k, PINK casket complete with satin roses for HIMSELF. It was, in fact, a pathetic homage to his mother...who was as psychotic, if not more so than he was.

Yeah. No.

I found this lovely, denim casket (I didn't realize it at the time, but it ended up costing just $700) that actually matched the workshirts he wore every day of his life. The WSS insisted he wear a suit. Again, no. Workshirt and chinos it was.

WSS was actually shaking with fear that the dead guy would be mad. My response? "If he's going to haunt ANYONE it will be me...and I can take it."

Oddly, he has been the one dead person in my history who never impacted me again. No dreams. No visualizations. Nothing.

May I be the first to say, the idea of John McCain having sex is thoroughly ewwwwww.

Yeah, but Cindy's a bit of all right.