Bubble and Squeak

Six weeks. The support group met on Wednesday and I told them: March 14th. The date. The move. The sentence was short and the room was quiet and then Sandra said, "Ruth, you've been the strongest person in this room for four years, and the strength isn't going to stop because the address changes." I nodded. I did not speak. Speaking would have opened the door to the crying, and the crying, once opened, would not close easily, and I had latkes to fry that afternoon, because Hanukkah is early this year and the latkes wait for no one's grief.

Doris hugged me. The hug was long and firm and the kind of hug that only a person who has walked the same road can give — a hug that says: I know. I walked this. You will walk it. The walking is terrible. The walking is survivable. You will survive it because you have no choice, and having no choice is, paradoxically, the thing that makes you strong.

I came home and I fried latkes with a precision and a fury that turned the kitchen into a factory — potatoes grated, batter mixed, oil heated, latkes fried, latkes stacked, latkes served to Marvin who ate them without knowing why they were being made or that the making was my therapy, my meditation, my substitute for screaming. The latkes were perfect. The screaming was unnecessary. The oil held. The potatoes crisped. The salt was right. Six weeks. The latkes are perfect. Everything else is falling apart. The latkes are perfect.

The latkes were my anchor that afternoon — and when I make them again, or something close to them, I reach for Bubble and Squeak: the same fury of hot oil, the same trust in the pan, the same satisfaction of watching something raw and ragged press itself into something crisp and certain. It doesn’t have a Hebrew name and it doesn’t know what Hanukkah is, but it asks the same thing of you that latkes ask — your full attention, and your hands — and on the days when your attention and your hands are all you have left to offer, that is exactly the right recipe.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 cups mashed or roughly crushed cooked potatoes (about 3 medium potatoes)
1 1/2 cups cooked cabbage, finely chopped and well-drained
1/2 cup cooked Brussels sprouts or leftover mixed vegetables, roughly chopped (optional)
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder (optional)

Instructions

Combine the mixture. In a large bowl, mix the mashed potatoes, chopped cabbage, any additional cooked vegetables, and diced onion. Season with salt, pepper, and garlic powder if using. Stir until evenly combined — the mixture should hold together when pressed.
Shape the cakes. Divide the mixture into 8 equal portions. Press each portion into a flat, round patty roughly 1/2 inch thick. If the mixture feels too loose, refrigerate for 10 minutes to firm up.
Heat the pan. In a large heavy skillet (cast iron works beautifully), melt the butter with the oil over medium-high heat. When the butter foams and the foam subsides, the pan is ready.
Fry the first side. Add the patties in a single layer without crowding — work in batches if needed. Press down gently with a spatula. Cook undisturbed for 4–5 minutes until the bottom is deeply golden and releases cleanly from the pan.
Flip and finish. Carefully flip each cake and cook for another 4–5 minutes on the second side until equally golden and crisp. Do not move them around — patience here is the whole point.
Drain and season. Transfer to a plate lined with paper towels. Season immediately with a pinch of flaky salt. Serve hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Bubble and Squeak — When the Only Thing Left to Control Is the Pan