It’s really odd to be just two weeks out from a pivotal year — one that you know will likely stand out from the rest of the years in your life. I can count on one hand the years that really stood out to me: 2008, when I graduated high school and moved to New York; 2014, when I got my first studio apartment on the Upper East Side; 2017, the year my career as a columnist took off (and the year I got laid off). 2020, the year the world shut down. The thing about all of those years, though, is that I didn’t know they’d be huge when I was standing at their entrances.
2024, on the other hand? Barring some bizarre turn-of-events, I know this year will be big. Ben and I are getting married in June, and we have already started talking about how quickly we’d (ideally) want kids to follow. That leads to discussions of home, and where that will be for us, and what that means for our life in New York.
I haven’t spoken much about the upcoming wedding for a handful of reasons, but mostly because it’s hard to talk about getting the thing you’ve always wanted — even if you did that wanting so publicly for years. I spent so much time questioning when I’d meet my person, when we’d get married, when we’d start having children. I made a career out of it. But now that I have the answers to those questions, I realize how little I (or anyone, for that matter) understand about the whole process of falling in love.
Writing about the pursuit of love doesn’t attune you to being able to distinguish it when it falls into your lap. Instead, you understand how random it is, how little anyone understands about this small miracle. And I would rather be accused of *anything* but a know-it-all who, now that she’s found love in her life, spends her time doling out advice wrapped in trite anecdotes to those who are still on their own journeys. And for some reason, writing about the wedding at all has felt like I’d be edging into that territory.
But, also, there’s probably a part of me that has put off writing about it out of fear. In a lot of ways, Ben and I already feel like we’re married. But I also know our wedding starts a domino fall that will leave me with a life I don’t recognize anymore. And, yes, we are always evolving. But how *mental* is it that I know that things will be wildly different a year from now, but I don’t know how exactly? It’s scary — not in a way that makes me not want to do it. In fact, I am so excited for everything to come next year. But it’s scary in a way that makes me know I have no idea what I’m in for. Does that make sense?
The easiest way for me to ease that transition, for me, is to focus on the things I do have control over, and that I know I can bring into this next phase of my life — including my annual Latkes and Lasagne party. Last year, I just served lasagne. But this year, Ben wanted to get in on the action by making latkes. Hence, latkes and lasagne. A perfect blend of our cultures, representing the fact that, in just six short months, we will be blended ourselves.
It was, oddly, a perfect metaphor for exactly where I and my friends are in the moment. All around my table, as a matter of fact, there were people who were on the precipices of *their* own big years. Last year when I threw my Christmas party, Katie and her husband Bob had just gotten married (and, unbeknownst to her, and her husband, and all of us at the party, was *pregnant* at the time). This year they brought their son Bo to be part of the festivities. My friend Leah got a piece of news just a week after our get-together that will completely alter her year next year in new and thrilling ways. All around me, people were in transition. But aren’t we all the time, in a way?
So yes, things change. Some years are bigger than others in myriad ways. But we all get to decide how we celebrate, and when we bring people together, and who we decide to take along for the ride.
Thank you all for joining me on this wacky, wild, rollercoaster of a year. And for those of you who have been with me for years, it’s been a real privilege growing up alongside you. I hope you’ll join me in 2024 for seconds of everything — weddings, relationships, friendships, thoughts on suburbia, and food, food, food. Always, food.
Happy holidays. xx
Serves 6-8
INGREDIENTS
4 russet or Yukon gold potatoes
2 medium yellow onions
4 eggs
1 cup flour
1 Tbsp baking powder
Salt and pepper
Neutral frying oil (like vegetable or canola)
INSTRUCTIONS
Fill a large bowl with ice water. Peel the potatoes and place them in the water, whole, to avoid discoloration. Peel the onions.
Using the large shredding side of a box grater, grate the onions, and then the potatoes. Place them into a large dish cloth or cheese cloth, hold it over the sink, and squeeze out as much of the liquid as possible. (This is SUPER important and will take a little longer than you’d like, but it the KEY to super crispy latkes.)
Put the onion and potato mixture into a large bowl. Add your flour, eggs, baking powder, salt, and pepper, and mix well.
Heat about an inch of oil in a large skillet. Scoop a heaping tablespoon of the latke mixture into the oil and press down on it gently to get a flatter shape. Fill the skillet, but don’t put the latkes too close together so you’re able to flip them easily. Once the edges are golden brown and crisp, flip them and cook until the other side is also golden brown.
Remove latkes and place them on a paper towel-lined cookie sheet to let the excess oil drip off. Transfer to a serving dish, sprinkle with salt, and serve with your favorite latke toppings — apple sauce, sour cream, crème fraîche, or caviar (if you fancy). For our latkes and lasagne party, we like to serve these first, followed by the lasagne.