Oil, Eternal Oil

The one thing I remember most about my grandmother’s house on Chanukah is the smell of frying oil.

That must be the number one most clichéd frying-oil-sentence of all time, and simultaneously the truest statement that every person with a grandmother will tell you.

And Chanukah is the most apropos time of year to be reminiscing about oil without any of the judgment that usually goes with soaking our food in it. Walking into my grandmother’s kitchen this time of year, you’re guaranteed to face a pile of fresh doughnuts, always crispy and hot no matter how much time has elapsed since the last time you were there.

It’s either that, or latkes, freshly fried chicken cutlets, or anything else that can possibly be made in the huge old frying pan that has seen its fair share of Chanukahs.