Latkes for the Building

I'm the only Jewish person in my apartment building, and every December, my neighbors ask me questions about Hanukkah. This year, I decided to show them instead. I invited everyone to a latke party in the lobby on the Sunday before the first night.

I grated twenty pounds of potatoes. My hands smelled like onion for three days. I set up two electric skillets on a folding table and fried latkes for four hours while my neighbors watched, ate and asked to try flipping.

Mr. Okafor from 4B discovered that he loves applesauce on latkes. Mrs. Lindqvist from 2A argued strongly for sour cream. A teenager from the top floor tried both at the same time and declared himself "a man of compromise."

I lit a menorah at the end and explained the story of the oil that lasted eight nights. Everyone was quiet. Then the little girl from 3C asked if we could do it again next year. We definitely are.