My Christmas plans got messed up this year thanks to Hanukkah. On Christmas Eve, I had intended to head to Chinatown and check out some new dumpling spots. The next day, I would again go back, this time for spare ribs and moo shu chicken because it is a well known and time honored tradition that Jews eat Chinese food for Christmas.
None of this happened because of Christmakuh, which really isn’t such a big deal. Christmakuh occurs when the first night of Hanukkah and Christmas Eve fall on the same day and the last time this happened was recently as 2005.
My conscience got to me and I accepted my friend’s invitations to do Hanukkah things at their homes by bringing their kids gifts and sustainable artisanal, non-gmo, fair trade wines for the adults.
Things got better because on the 3rd night of Christmakuh; my true love sent to me three dumpling dishes, two egg rolls and a minivan of crazy Jews from Brooklyn.
After eating my Chinese dinner and heading to the train, I could hear Pitbull’s Bar Mitzvah anthem, ‘Time of our Lives” blaring out the windows, horns honking, and a commotion. It felt more Jersey Shore than NYC and then it all made sense.
It was them, the Lubavitchers, the evangelizing Jews spreading the light of Hanukkah. It looked like a mass exodus coming off the Manhattan Bridge to downtown New York City. Huge menorahs braced on top of their cars, their candles lit up in blues and whites.
I caught the attention of one of those minivans because I just had to stop and film. This is what Facebook Live was made for. A 30-something woman, obviously orthodox, and I know this because they all wear the same wigs. It’s brownish, shoulder length and they are always on crooked.
“Are you Jewish?” she screamed out her window. Now, I have been through this drill before and you’re always supposed to answer ‘no’ because don’t get me wrong, I love them spreading the light, but they will talk your ear off.
I gambled. “Yeah, I’m Jewish.” “Okay, she said,” and leaned over to grab something. I had a minute of panic. What if she was impersonating a Jew and about to grab a gun to kill me? I was just being paranoid.
She then hurled a box the size of Carr crackers. Inside was an aluminum Menorah and candles which I thought I’d keep just in case there is a blackout in the near future. “Happy Hanukkah,” she chanted.
She wasn’t done. “You hungry? She asked. Do you want a donut?” Now, you might think that’s the weird part. A stranger handing you donuts from their car window. It’s not. Since the miracle of Hanukkah happened because the oil meant to light a candle for one night, lasted for eight, we celebrate with oily foods. More importantly than tradition, I have a sweet tooth so I accepted.
Let me tell you about this donut. For sure it was Artisanal. It was the most amazing Boston Cream Pie Donut I have ever had. The chocolate glaze on top was smooth and not hardened, so it didn’t crack as I bit into it. It was fresh and fluffy with an airy interior for the perfect amount of custard so when you ate, it didn’t explode all over your mouth — it just slowly oozed.
I needed to come home and Facetime, with my newly converted friend Bunny Shapiro and share my joy. Plus, I wanted to know how she was spending her second Hanukkah in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, where she couldn’t find a menorah if her life depended on it.
“I should have kept that crappy plastic one I bought at Duane Reade,” she said to me.
You know them. They’re the sad little white menorahs with orange candles you find in office building lobbies. God forbid the candles break (which they do often) because they are not sold separately.
“For now, she said, I’ll light my Diptyque candles.”
The following night Bunny met her newly found Jewish friend, Sharon, a 50-year-old Zumba teacher and her husband Darcy, who converted to Judaism so the two could get married. “At least he didn’t have to get circumcised,” she says. “That was already taken care of.” Darcy laughs, “Yeah, Jews don’t have a patent on that.”
The dinner was held at a Mexican Restaurant, Cafe Bohemio, and hosted by Uncle’s Sol & Chris, the Bon Vivant’s of town. It’s the local hot spot that offers ‘Al Fresco’ dining (what else would you have in Mexico?) and on this night, it’s where the 45 Jews in the town decided to have their Hanukkah meal.
Their everyday menu consists of items such as green or red moles, Enchiladas, Chile Rellenos and the likes.
On this night they either flew in Jewish chef Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa, or whoever in the back makes guacamole also knows how to make a mean Matzo Ball soup, chopped liver, and brisket. However, the Kugel was made with penne pasta, not egg noodles, which is like making a Christmas ham with turkey.
There was a lot of light and not just those dangling bulbs of Al Fresco decor, because as it turns out it was “BYOM” — Bring Your Own Menorah. There were all types. Those passed down, a few ceramic ones created by local artists and get this — a lucite and bejeweled number.
Sharon shared hers with Bunny and I was glad to hear that. Next year, though, I know where to get another one so I can pass mine down to Bunny- just not the donut. She’ll have to eat churros.