Later, latke: These NYC establishments are serving unique Hanukkah treats
(New York Jewish Week) — Hanukkah begins Sunday, Dec. 18, at sundown, and, for most American Jews, that means it’s time for latkes, that delicious, crispy fried potato pancake.
Of course, when it comes to Hanukkah treats, there are other options, too, especially sufganiyot (singular: sufganiyah), the deep-fried doughnuts inspired by the Hanukah miracle of the oil lamp. These fried goodies are most typically filled with strawberry jam, and they’re readily available at many bakeries and kosher food stores across the city.
However, in this great city of ours, there’s no need to stop with the classic! In recent years, New York pastry chefs have upped their Hanukkah game and are getting uber creative with the flavors and fillings of their Hanukkah jelly doughnuts and fresh approaches to other Hanukkah treats.
Perhaps they are looking over their shoulders at the frenzy of creativity that overtakes Israeli bakeries in the weeks leading up to Hanukkah. Bakeries there sell a staggering 20 million or so sufganiyot each year during the Festival of Lights. Some of these are simple jelly doughnuts, while others are veritable works of art, filled with creative concoctions ranging from passion fruit cream to wild berry mascarpone and topped with flavored whipped creams, crispy cherries, pistachio glaze and more.
When it comes to sufganiyot, New York may not have reached Israeli-style innovation — yet. But if you want to venture beyond fried potato pancakes this year, you’re in luck: From unique collaborations between chefs and bakers (latke-inspired doughnuts, anyone?) to tropical flavors, the following eight bakeries and restaurants are churning out extra-special Hanukkah treats this year.
If you like to go out for your holiday celebration, Israeli-born Chef Einat Admony is preparing a special Hanukkah dessert at her flagship restaurant Balaboosta: the Moroccan doughnut, sfenj, will be on the menu all eight days of the holiday. Her take on the fried pastry is flavored with the anise-flavored spirit Arak, grapefruit zest and juice. You get four to five sfenj with your order. $15 per serving.
Locations in Union Square, Rockefeller Center, Lincoln Center, Upper East Side and Bryant Park Kiosk
From Dec. 15 through Dec. 27, Breads will be serving the classic strawberry jam-filled sufganiyah. But you can also choose passion fruit jam, vanilla cream and chocolate cream fillings ($3.65 each; $37 for a dozen). Yes, fresh latkes ($2.95) are also on offer, but if you’d really like to try something different, for the month of December Breads is featuring a bialy babka ($16.95), a savory combination of babka dough with bialy-inspired fried onions and poppyseeds.
Locations in Brooklyn, Upper East Side, Upper West Side and Westchester
No gluten, no oil, no problem! At this kosher bakery, you can get a dairy- and gluten-free doughnut to mark the holiday — what’s more, it’s baked, not fried. The baking, according to By the Way’s Nazli Sarpkaya, “gives the doughnuts a lighter and more tender texture.” The doughnuts ($3.50 each, $30 for nine) are filled with raspberry jam. Retail locations are supervised by Rabbi Aaron Mehlman of National Kosher Supervision.
Two locations in Williamsburg, Brooklyn: 312 Leonard St. and 495 Lorimer St.
For Hanukkah, Edith’s, a new kid on the Brooklyn food block, is spotlighting a special “collabonut,” as owner Elyssa Heller calls them: sanded sugar doughnuts from Greenpoint institution Peter Pan Donut & Pastry filled with Edith’s grape jelly, homemade from juicy Concord grapes and thick, rich Manischewitz wine. Heller told the New York Jewish Week she landed on Concord grape as this year’s flavor because it was the taste of her childhood, and because grape juice and wine play an important role in Jewish rituals. Six doughnuts for $28.75; preorder is available for nights 1 and 2 only, Dec. 18 and 19. Single doughnuts available in-store all eight days for $4.75 each. Be sure to check out Edith’s unique rectangular latke while you’re there!
Creativity knows no bounds at Fany Gerson’s doughnut hub. This year, Gerson and team are collaborating with 13(!) of Fan Fan’s favorite bakers and pastry chefs to come up with a Baker’s Dozen Holiday Box ($75) filled with innovative sufganiyot. Among the bakers: Caroline Schiff, the executive pastry chef at historic steakhouse Gage & Tollner, who created a latke doughnut (filled with apple butter, topped with a sour cream glaze and homemade cinnamon-dusted potato chips) and Umber Ahmad of Mah-Ze-Dahr, who contributed a vanilla bean, cardamom and rose doughnut to the lineup. Preorders available.
Two locations: 115A Division St. on the Lower East Side and 401 East 90th St. on the Upper East Side
Israeli Adir Michaeli, former head baker at Breads and the founder and owner of Michaeli Bakery, opened a second location this year — this one on the Upper East Side. Michaeli is having fun with his fillings, which range from the classic strawberry jam to cream fillings in flavors like hazelnut, pistachio, banana-pecan, dulce de leche and vanilla-chocolate. He is also preparing sfenj, a vegan Moroccan fried doughnut, coated in sugar. Prices range between $4 to $5 each; available from Dec. 18 to 26. International Kosher Council certification.
This kosher bakery and eatery no longer has a storefront, but they do have an extensive menu of Hanukkah foods that can be picked up at their commissary in Long Island City or delivered to your door. They have raspberry or apricot sufganiyot — available in regular size or mini — but for something a little different you can also try Hanukkah-themed cupcakes, sugar cookies (in the shape of a dreidel or a Hanukkah menorah) and cakes. Pick up and delivery of these holiday-themed foods begins on Sunday, Dec. 18, the first night of the holiday, and runs through Dec. 26. Prices start at $18 for four regular-sized doughnuts; delivery charges vary by location. Kosher certification from OK Kosher.
Three locations: One in Brooklyn and two on the Lower East Side
The creative minds at Fan Fan are also collaborating with iconic appetizing store Russ & Daughters for a good cause: a portion of sales of their three-sufganiyot Hanukkah Box ($14) will go to the Anti-Defamation League, the non-profit that fights antisemitism. The box consists of a traditional(ish) sufganiyah rolled in vanilla sugar and filled with homemade roasted strawberry jam; a rugelach doughnut filled with raspberry jam and rolled in cinnamon sugar; and a black and white doughnut filled with chocolate and vanilla cream and iced in vanilla and chocolate. These treats — also available for $4.50 each — are available at Fan Fan and all Russ & Daughters locations from Dec. 15 through 25.
A little‑remembered Gilded Age millionaire helped make milk safe for American kids through his ‘retail giving’
The 1844 edition of the widely used schoolbook written by William H. McGuffey, “Newly Revised Eclectic Fourth Reader,” includes a dialogue about the difference between “true and false philanthropy”:
Mr. Fantom: I despise a narrow field. O for the reign of universal benevolence! I want to make all mankind good and happy.
Mr. Goodman: Dear me! Sure, that must be a wholesale sort of a job: had you not better try your hand at a town or neighborhood first?
As the discussion continues, the lesson becomes clear. Mr. Fantom’s approach is too ambitious to accomplish much, while Mr. Goodman’s, if narrower in scope, was likely to be more useful in practice.
Nathan Straus made his mark in philanthropy after a successful career running the Macy’s department store. Library of Congress Image by
Many of Straus’ contemporary philanthropists were setting lofty goals for their giving. In oil magnate John D. Rockefeller’s case, it was promoting “the welfare of humanity throughout the world.” For steel tycoon Andrew Carnegie, it was “to promote the advancement and diffusion of knowledge and understanding.”
Straus pursued more mundane objectives that included championing milk pasteurization. Although his efforts are not as well known today as those of his more ambitious – and wealthier – counterparts, they accomplished a lot and showed that what might be called “retail giving” can have far-reaching effects.
Successful immigration story
The Straus family came to the United States from Germany in the 1850s during the first big wave of Jewish immigration. Lazarus Straus, Nathan’s father, followed a familiar path for Jewish immigrants at the time, beginning as a peddler and eventually establishing his own store in the small town of Talbotton, Georgia, where the members of his family were the only Jews.
He prospered, became a respected citizen and saw that his children received good educations, including in their religion.
Then the Civil War upended the family’s life, first by reviving antisemitic prejudices and then, eventually, by destroying the family’s business.
Starting anew in New York City, Lazarus and his older sons, Isidor and Nathan, began to sell imported china, glassware and other crockery to retailers in the Northeast and South. One was Rowland H. Macy, who had founded an eponymous store that was on the cutting edge of what Fisher calls a “retailing revolution.”
Macy’s innovations included stocking large inventories of many kinds of merchandise, competitive pricing, extensive advertising and providing a variety of services like public restrooms and a cafeteria to make shoppers’ experiences more pleasurable.
Aided by the rapid urban and economic growth of the late 19th century, the model flourished. Department stores displaced smaller, specialty shops. Other retail powerhouses, such as Bloomingdale’s and Lord & Taylor, soon competed with Macy’s.
The Straus family sold their wares at Macy’s. After Rowland H. Macy died, the Straus family became partners with its new owners. By 1896, the Strauses owned the store outright. And Macy’s was expanding: It bought another department store in Brooklyn and created a flagship building on Manhattan’s Herald Square, which Macy’s still occupies.
The landmark Macy’s department store in New York’s Herald Square opened in 1902 while Nathan and Isidor Straus ran the retailer. Library of Congress Image by
His philanthropy journey begins
While Isidor Straus oversaw the store’s internal operations, Nathan focused on the company’s external activities, such as purchasing, marketing and dealing with government and business leaders.
A third brother, Oscar, pursued a career as a politician and diplomat, eventually becoming secretary of commerce and labor under President Theodore Roosevelt and the first Jewish member of a presidential cabinet. Perhaps inevitably, this led to a series of public appointments for Nathan Straus.
However, as they became wealthier, Nathan and his wife, Lina, increasingly devoted their attention to a series of philanthropic projects.
In 1893, the U.S. entered a four-year economic depression, its worst until the 1930s. As unemployment in New York City rose, Nathan Straus used his merchandising skills to address the needs of the jobless and poor.
He created a number of “depots” near tenements and boarding houses that sold coal, food and fuel at discount prices. Fisher, Straus’ biographer, rightly calls these early examples of what is now known as “social entrepreneurship”: the application of business principles to solving social problems.
Making milk less deadly
As these efforts were getting away, Straus also launched what would become his major preoccupation: promoting pasteurized milk.
In New York City in the early 1890s, Fisher writes, “the annual mortality rate among children under five was about 15 percent,” or 18,000 infants and toddlers per year. A main cause was consuming raw milk, which, unless certified by inspectors, was likely not only to contain a variety of pathogens, such as tuberculosis bacteria, but spoil easily going from farm to table.
Although scientists had long known that heating could make milk safer, doctors and public health officials worried that sterilizing milk might also destroy its valuable nutrients.
Straus, who had lost one of his own children to what he believed was a milk-borne infection, built on his projects for the unemployed by working with New York social service agencies to develop pasteurization plants and infant-milk stations near low-income neighborhoods.
They sold sterilized and refrigerated milk at below-wholesale prices, or donated it to those who could not afford to pay. Businesslike efficiency kept costs low, as did donations. Multilingual ads publicized the product’s availability, doctors and nurses advised parents on child-rearing, and careful recordkeeping aimed at assessing the program’s health benefits.
Straus and his wife devoted much of their time and money to this work. In addition to establishing 297 milk stations in 36 cities, they also spoke and wrote widely about the merits of pasteurization.
By 1908, their efforts paid off when the U.S. Public Health Service endorsed pasteurization and state and local governments began requiring that milk sold in their jurisdictions be pasteurized. Raw milk remained available in many states, and debates over its safety continue to this day.
As a result of this and other Progressive Era measures, New York City’s health commissioner estimated that infant deaths dropped by two-thirds
during the first two decades of the 20th century, with similar declines elsewhere in the country.
The coastal Israeli city of Netanya was named after philanthropist Nathan Straus. Jack Guez/AFP via Getty Images Image by
Other causes
While most of Nathan Straus’ efforts occurred in the U.S., he used his trips to Europe for Macy’s to promote pasteurization on the continent.
During a 1904 visit, he toured the Mediterranean and stopped in Palestine, then part of the Ottoman Empire. Impressed by the early Jewish settlements and holy sites he saw, Straus became an ardent advocate for creating a Jewish homeland in the Middle East, an unusual position for a Jewish businessman of that era, according to Fisher.
On a subsequent trip, a broken leg kept Straus from returning to New York on the maiden voyage of the Titanic; his brother Isidor and sister-in-law Ida were not so fortunate.
In the U.S., Nathan Straus led Zionist organizations, while in Palestine, his chief contributions involved supporting a variety of health care and economic development activities, including Hadassah, the women’s health and community development organization founded by Henrietta Szold.
Nathan Straus’ achievements as a philanthropist are not widely known today because he did not create a grantmaking foundation that outlasted him, as Rockefeller and Carnegie did.
Instead, by the time of his death in 1931, Straus had donated much of his fortune. Fisher writes that Straus used to invoke an old Hebrew proverb: “Money given in health is gold. Money given in sickness is silver. Money given after death is lead.”
He also didn’t donate heavily to the burgeoning network of communal organizations set up to assist the growing population of Jewish immigrants, as did the financiers Jacob Schiff and Felix Warburg, who were also affluent Jewish immigrants from Germany.
As Fisher notes, this pattern of philanthropy resembles that of Straus’ friend – and pallbearer – Julius Rosenwald, the longtime head of Sears, Roebuck and Co. Both supported Jewish causes as well as major initiatives aimed at helping others: In Rosenwald’s case, it was schools for African American children in the South, while for Straus, it was milk pasteurization in New York City and beyond.
During and after World War I, they worked together to assist Jewish refugees in Europe. Fisher might have added that neither Straus nor Rosenwald sought much recognition for their work.
His thorough account should help give Straus the credit he deserves for his philanthropy. It should also show that donors do not have to aspire to “make all mankind good and happy” to make an important difference.
In many ways, Nathan Straus was an old-fashioned do-gooder, responding to the needs he saw with innovative solutions. As a result, he wound up accomplishing a lot of good.
“Emma,” a young Jewish woman who we met in 2019, didn’t belong to a synagogue. She didn’t have a Jewish partner. She didn’t observe Jewish rituals regularly. On most surveys about religion, she would not seem very engaged with Judaism.
But as Emma talked about what she did in her free time, a very different picture began to emerge. She visited Jewish websites and enjoyed listening to Jewish music. She read books about Jewish topics and had recently attended a retreat for young Jewish adults to learn Torah while also doing yoga.
She was highly invested in learning about Judaism, but she explored her identity without joining traditional institutions.
Most major surveys about religion ask whether someone belongs to a congregation, how often they attend services, whether they pray regularly and whether belief is important in their lives. Those measures help identify broad shifts, like the growing percentage of Americans who are religiously unaffiliated: the “nones.”
But many Americans’ religious lives, like Emma’s, are not disappearing; they are moving away from membership of traditional institutions. To understand what religion looks like in 21st-century America, researchers may need to ask different questions.
Learning through art
As scholars of Judaismand education, we have been exploring how people learn about religion beyond traditional places like synagogues, Jewish schools and summer camps. Between 2019 and early 2023, we spoke with hundreds of people and explored different leisure time activities to discover what people learn about Judaism and Jewishness through cultural arts.
We interviewed dozens of audience members at Jewish-themed shows on Broadway, such as “Leopoldstadt”and “Parade.” We attended Jewish concerts and asked attendees what they learned. We explored how social media communities offer spaces to talk about different Jewish topics, like what fans learned about ultra-Orthodox Judaism from watching the television show “Shtisel.”
‘Shtisel,’ an Israeli series about an ultra-Orthodox family in Jerusalem, ran for three seasons.
Our research revealed that there is a vibrant ecosystem of people learning about religion in their leisure time. Through the arts, both Jews and non-Jews encounter Jewish history, Jewish religious practices and representations of Jewish communities.
Screen and stage
Most people we spoke with told us that they felt meaningful connections to Judaism during activities that would rarely appear on a standard religion survey.
“Joan,” an unmarried woman in her 50s from Connecticut, told us that she was deeply invested in Judaism, but felt that synagogues and Jewish community centers were not welcoming to single people without families. Instead of joining a Jewish institution, she watched Jewish-themed TV shows and movies on Netflix, and joined social media communities to chat with other fans.
“Luis,” who lived in Boston but was born in Argentina, was a Sephardic Jew, a group that traces their ancestry and traditions to Jewish communities who once lived in Spain and Portugal. His wife was Ashkenazi, meaning her ancestors came from Central and Eastern Europe. She considered herself secular, and so the couple joined the Worker’s Circle, a nonreligious Ashkenazi institution rather than a synagogue.
Yet Luis loved deepening his knowledge of Sephardic culture, and he often attended concerts of music in Ladino, a Sephardic language related to Spanish, with other Sephardic immigrants.
American singer Sarah Aroeste writes and performs in Ladino.
For Joan and Luis, these activities were not peripheral to their Jewish lives. Rather, they were central avenues for learning and community. We interviewed hundreds of Jews who told us that cultural experiences were opportunities to reflect on Jewish practices, explore questions of belonging, connect with family histories and find friends with common interests.
New questions
Some aspects of these patterns were distinctive to Judaism. Historically, many Jews have understood Judaism to be a cultural world, and not only a theological tradition. Learning about cultural dimensions of Judaism has long been part of Jewish education.
The broader phenomenon of informal learning, though, extended far beyond a single tradition. Across America, increasing numbers of people learn about religion through media, cultural productions and digital networks. Christians may study biblical themes through podcasts, online discussion groups or religious influencers. Muslims may participate in online learning communities that connect believers across the world.
The challenge for religion researchers, then, is not simply to determine whether engagement with religion is rising or falling. Rather, it is to develop more nuanced ways of understanding how people explore religious themes and practices, beyond traditional institutions. Only then can we more fully understand how contemporary Americans actually live their religious lives.
