Latke vs Hamentash: A Materialist-Feminist Analysis

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Latke vs Hamentash: A Materialist-Feminist Analysis 

 Robin Leidner
University of Pennsylvania
Department of Sociology


A note to the reader: This paper came to me from Australia via Toronto; 
Prof. Leidner has kindly agreed to its publication in these pages. While 
I have not edited the text (other than the addition of headings, and the 
division of some paragraphs for ease of reading on your screen), the html 
and all hypertextual annotations and asides were authored by me.

As Prof. Leidner informed me, while this paper was presented as a response 
to that of Prof. Shapiro, both are part of the annals of a venerable tradition 
of debate on this important issue. March, 1995  



In a highly provocative paper entitled "<#latke>Latke vs. Hamantash: A 
Feminist Critique," Professor Judith Shapiro made an invaluable contribution 
to scholarship by bringing the insights of feminist and postmodern theory 
to bear on the interpretation of Jewish foodstuffs. It is surely no coincidence 
that shortly after the appearance of this paper, Professor Shapiro, who had been 
serving as provost of a provincial women's college in an obscure Philadelphia 
suburb, was chosen to become president of Barnard College in New York.

The usefulness of this learned, stimulating, highly original paper is hampered 
only by its complete wrong-headedness, a shortcoming that I will address tonight. 
This forum is an ideal setting for a frank reappraisal, since Professor Shapiro's 
departure from the vicinity allows us to focus on her faulty logic and inadequate 
methodology without fear of contradiction.

To summarize briefly an account that is richly nuanced (in fact, often 
incomprehensibly convoluted), Shapiro, an anthropologist, begins with the 
conjecture that the circles and triangles conventionally used to designate women and 
men on kinship charts are in fact iconic representations of latkes and hamentashen. 

She argues, "(I)t is ultimately impossible for us to know whether, in the last 
analysis, the latke and hamantash should be considered as semiotic representations 
of the two sexes or whether the two sexes should be seen as semiotic representations 
of latkes and hamantashen. What is not, however, in doubt, is the association of 
latkes with the female principle and hamantashen with the male" (Shapiro 1990:3). 

What is it that leads Shapiro to argue as a feminist that latkes, which have so 
clearly been part of the oppressive apparatus upholding the most retrograde 
patriarchal elements of Judaism, are a more appropriate symbol for women than 
hamentashen? I will argue that such an interpretation is possible only if analysis 
remains at a symbolic level which so decontextualizes the subject that there is no 
trace of the lived experience of the relevant social actors. 

In short, I will argue that this mistaken assertion is a product of the pernicious 
postmodern meshigas that has, in discipline after discipline, tempted scholars to 
abandon their investigations of the physical and social world in order to 
concentrate on a world of discourse that takes on greater importance, indeed 
greater reality. In the interests of defending sociology from the forces that have 
dessicated anthropology, history, literary criticism, cultural studies, and other 
pretenders to knowledge of the social world, I will argue that a clear understanding 
of the gendered implications of latkes and hamentashen must rest on careful empirical 

I will demonstrate, I think definitively, that attention to culturo-linguistic-symbolic 
content is illuminating only in conjunction with rigorous investigation of the material 
conditions under which the objects of analysis are produced and consumed. 

I have conducted extensive participant observation, over many years, of the production 
and consumption of both latkes and hamentashen. Based on my fieldwork and on in-depth 
interviews with non-market-oriented Jewish cooks, I will demonstrate that when one takes 
into account the gendered division of labor, family power dynamics, norms of sociability, 
and the structural conditions of participation in a late-capitalist, post-industrial economy, 
the hamentash is far more suitable for incorporation into the feminist vision of an 
egalitarian and nonoppressive future than is the latke.

The Latke

Let us turn first to the latke. The material conditions of latke production are stressed in 
the best-known analysis of the latke as a factor in the oppression of women, Emma Goldman's 
famous "blood of our foremothers" speech (with which I assume many of you are familiar). In 
it, she asked, "How much of the very blood of our foremothers' knuckles have we battened and 
fattened on every Chanukah, for surely their lifeblood is invariably an ingredient in our 
latkes? Could oceans of applesauce or mountains of sour cream ever fully mask the salty taste 
of the tears of our "onion-grating sisters?" More than fifty years after Goldman's death, 
these questions still haunt us.

Time limits prevent me from quoting many of the moving accounts that my interviewees provided 
of what their Chanukahs are like. But put yourself in the position of these women (for it is 
of course women who produce the latkes in the great majority of households). The children are 
over-excited and rambunctious. Perhaps guests are expected. Much of the holiday meal has 
already been prepared, but the cook feels obliged to provide fresh latkes, not reheated ones. 

After peeling, grating, frying batch after batch in spitting oil, the cook is exhausted and 
sweaty, her hair hangs in greasy clumps, her knuckles are scraped raw, her arms sting from 
the continual splatters of oil. When at last a heaping plate of latkes is ready, she brings 
it to the table, where every one is snatched up immediately. Stoically, she heads back to the 
stove to begin frying the next batch. 

From the dining room drift peals of laughter, snatches of conversation, the splat of applesauce, 
and shouted inquiries about when the latkes will be ready. Excluded from the community, she 
spends most of the holiday meal on her feet in front of the hot stove, forcing a gay smile 
during her brief forays to deliver latkes. Her labor does not end with the meal, for back in 
the kitchen potato peels are overflowing the garbage can, numerous bowls and utensils wear a 
thick layer of potato mixture, now disagreeably blackened, and of course a sticky film of grease 
covers all exposed surfaces. Despite her best efforts, the smell, having permeated the drapes, 
will linger for weeks. 

No doubt many of you are now thinking of the same thing: Cuisinarts. Some critics, including 
Professor Goldfrank of U.C. Santa Cruz, have argued that while latke production may indeed 
have been oppressive in Goldman's day, the food processor has so eased the work of latke 
preparation that at present its demands are negligible (personal communication). 

It is certainly true that some of the more dangerous and painful labor involved in latke 
production has been reduced by technological developments, and survey research by Tsimmes 
and Tsurris (1993) confirms that Cuisinart ownership is a significant factor in explaining 
variation in the degree of resentment among latke-makers. Yet I maintain that given the 
physical, social, and emotional demands of peeling and frying that remain, only those who 
benefit from the subordination of women, or those bamboozled by a deeply-entrenched system of 
mystification, could argue, as does Goldfrank, that latke-production is now "a piece of cake." 

In fact, the impact of the Cuisinart on women's position in Judaism has been quite limited. 
Following the familiar pattern of many so-called household conveniences, the Cuisinart has 
increased demand for latkes and generated increasingly fussy standards of latke texture without 
changing the power dynamics that are really at issue here. (I don't think I need even elaborate 
on the classism of commentators who overlook the reality that access to Cuisinarts is highly 
class-stratified.) Another modern development, the marketing of prepared latke mixes, has had 
even less effect on the overall picture. Such mixes are their own punishment, and judging from 
my sample they are never purchased more than once. 

Content analysis of my interview data shows that a few themes dominate the cooks' accounts: 
physical suffering; pressure; and social isolation. 

The Hamentash

The picture for hamentashen is very different. First, for many of my informants, the home has 
ceased to be a site of hamentash production. Such households calculate that the cost of the 
time, effort, and skill of family members outweighs the cost of store-bought hamentashen and 
the diminished quality of the product. For in the capitalist marketplace, the hamentash is 
reduced to a commodity like any other, and we should not be surprised that capitalist 
competition has led to the year-round availability of neo-hamentashen with alien fillings, 
their brightly-colored jams signaling their debasement to the level of the workaday Danish. 

Nevertheless, many of my respondents and their families do reserve hamentash consumption for 
Purim, and some apparently deem mass-produced commercial hamentashen an acceptable substitute 
for the infinitely more delicious and not very hard to make home-baked hamentashen that can be 
produced with my no-yeast recipe. These respondents do not view Purim as an oppressive 
institution, but they are relatively low in positive affect as well.

Certainly the happiest families are those where hamentash production takes place at 
home, usually as a collective enterprise. A special time is set aside for unhurried hamentash 
activity, in contrast to the high-pressure time crunch we saw in the case of latkes. In 
general, several family members cooperate in the production of hamentashen; even very small 
children enjoy taking a turn rolling out dough, plopping spoonfuls of filling onto the circles, 
and pressing corners to form triangles. 

Some disagreeable work has been marketized, because in this case, feminist pressure led to the 
development of a substitute for home-made fillings that is not only acceptable, but preferable: 
prune butter, or Lekvar, purchased by the jar. The scene is one of mutual enjoyment as children, 
their faces smeared with Lekvar, help cut out circles of dough; older members of the household 
guide their efforts and praise their helpfulness; participants are often moved to sing; a 
wonderful aroma fills the home. 

Everyone is permitted to sample the hamentashen as they emerge from the oven, newly-plump and 
warm. It is true that flour is all over everything, but clean-up is eased by the cheerful 
cooperation of older children and adults. 

The themes that emerged most often from my interviews about hamentashen were: fun, nostalgia, 
and togetherness. 


For women, it is clear that hamentashen offer far more scope for self-realization, egalitarian 
relations, and social progress than do latkes. The liberating potential of the hamentash is 
especially great because Purim provides a clear model of a feminist heroine in the megillah. 
I speak, of course, of Vashti, who bravely resisted patriarchal authority (here reinforced by 
state power) and refused to accept the powerless position of the trophy wife exhibited as an 
ego-boosting tchotchke at her husband's command. I don't think we need go as far as some 
critics do in describing Esther as a "male-identified scab" in order to acknowledge that it is 
Vashti whose independence, personal integrity, and brave refusal to be judged according to male 
standards are most worthy of celebration.

Could latkes ever be a force for the empowerment of women? My most recent field notes suggest 
that, given the right objective conditions, latkes could provoke in the masses of Jewish women 
the kind of revolutionary fervor that they triggered in Emma Goldman. It is those years when 
women have to start in with the latkes before they've recovered from Thanksgiving, years like 
this one, that have the most revolutionary potential. 

In times like these, many women pierce the false consciousness that has contributed to their 
subordination; indeed, much of the language of the transcripts from this year's interviews is 
unprintable. We must start laying the groundwork now if we are to be ready the next year 
Chanukah falls early, ready for revolutionary change brought about by the determined unity of 
Jewish women and the support of enlightened men. The revolution need not abolish latkes, but 
must abolish the gendering of burdensome holiday labor so that it may be shared. 

Goldfrank has suggested that interfaith marriage might help create a vanguard for this movement 
(personal communication). Are Jewish husbands of non-Jewish wives taking responsibility for 
their own latkes? If so, could that provoke a generalized loosening of gendered latke norms? I 
plan to pursue these questions in future research.

Some critics have suggested that my unflinching analysis of the material conditions of latke 
production could play into the hands of the virulent anti-Semitic fringe groups in Idaho, which 
might interpret my arguments as part of a larger Jewish conspiracy to control their state's 
potato-based economy. While I believe that we need not stifle debate within the Jewish community 
out of fear, I do take this concern seriously. I have been careful to avoid language that 
could be construed as tuberphobic, and trust that our community can sustain a candid and 
vigorous discussion that will avoid descending to ad potatum attacks. 

Just as I do not reject the potato, I do not object to the inclusion of some analysis of the 
symbolic content of latkes and hamentashen in determining their feminist potential. Had Shapiro 
grounded her cultural analysis in investigation of the everyday realities of production and 
consumption, she surely would not have come so close to accepting an essentialist view of 
gender, as she appears to in speaking of a purported "association of latkes with the female 
principle and hamantashen with the male." 

Feminist scholars have demonstrated again and again that gender categories are malleable and 
that variation within genders is virtually always greater than average differences between 
genders. The hamentash is a perfect representation of this more flexible, culturally variable, 
view of gender. For while the hamentash begins as a circle (which Shapiro tags female), it 
becomes a triangle through conscious human intervention, without ever losing its qualities of 

The hamentash is an inspiring demonstration of the possibilities of overcoming essentialist 
dualisms: without the circle, there could be no triangle, and without the triangle, the circle 
would be empty. The hamentash provides a vision of human possibility that similarly integrates 
the strengths that have been attributed to men and women. I leave you with the hope that some 
day we all can achieve that blending of circle and triangle, the synthesis of smoothness and 
crunch, the simultaneous embodiment of openness and fullness that we find in the hamentash.

Copyright  1994 Robin Leidner 

Latke vs Hamentash: Notes

* Latke (pl. Latkes) is a potato pancake which, though smaller than some, usually approximates 
roundness in its appearance

* Hamentash (pl. Hamentashen) is a triangular shaped pastry

* The reader will note that Prof. Shapiro had chosen a different spelling, viz. Hamantash(en). 
This is not a typographical error; rather it reflects the inner dualism of this delicacy. The 
filling in the Hamentash is usually (as Prof. Leidner describes elsewhere in this paper) 
'Levkar', also known as prune butter. However, it is possible that Prof. Shapiro ascribes to 
the 'mun' or honey and poppy-seed school of filling; hence the different spelling. But 
regardless of the filling, either spelling is correct.

* Grated onion is a key ingredient of any latke. Although my former husband continues to adhere 
to the meshuggenah belief that latkes should be made without onions.

* Oil, of course, is the traditional mode of cooking latkes and symbolizes the oil which burned 
in the Temple for eight days when there was only enough for one day. My former husband believes 
that latkes should be fried in butter. The reader will no doubt understand why we are now 
happily divorced.

* Had these researchers chosen to 'anglicize' their names, they would probably be referred to 
as Carrots and Trouble; Tsimmes and Tsurris certainly has more cachet and is more in keeping 
with their field of expertise.

* Literally translated 'tchotchke' (or, as it is sometimes transliterated, 'tzatzke'), means 
bauble and is often used to refer to small ornamental objects.

* Since Canadian Thanksgiving falls on the second Monday in October, it is unlikely that 
Canadian latke producing women will be as deeply affected by this timing as their U.S. sisters; 
hence they may be less likely to respond to this call to arms.

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