The Quest

My mother used to make a big batch of potato latkes every Sunday. They'd turn out nice and crispy and brown, but my brother didn't like them.

It seems that one time when he was very young, there were a lot of latkes left over from lunch and they were put on a plate on the steam radiator to hold until dinner. (I can still hear them crackle on the plate.) Of course, the potatoes turned green. My brother had the leftover latkes for the evening meal and loved them. From then on, he wouldn't eat them until they turned green. Then I also got to thinking - because he was my older brother and knew best - that green potato latkes were perfect. So I stopped eating potato latkes in the afternoon and waited until the evening meal when they were moss green. To this day I'm still looking for green potato latkes. But now there's forced air heat, there are no steam radiators, and the green potato latke is no longer with us. It is a vestige of early Bronx apartments.

Insert long-handled fork under stem of eggplant and place eggplant on gas jet turned high. Turn eggplant over once or twice until it is fully cooked. (To test, prick skin; if steam comes out, it is done.) Put eggplant under cold running tap. Peel off charred skin. Remove top and place eggplant in a bowl. Squeeze lemon juice over it. Tilt platter to drain off bitter eggplant juice. Chop with wooden spoon to soften. Sprinkle liberally with salt, more lemon juice and salad oil. Put in covered jar and store in refrigerator for a week to marinate. When ready to use, mix with diced onion. May be used as an hors d'oeuvre, spread on crackers, cucumber slices, etc.