I am not a religious Jew, but I am completely willing to embrace any religious tradition that involves frying potatoes. Ergo, latkes for dinner tonight! Hand-grated, of course. They're not the same without a little knuckle flesh in them. Inspired by the New York Times, I made these latkes a little more adult (just a little, though).
They're resting on a bed of spinach sauteed in sesame oil, tangerine juice, and grated ginger and topped with Greek yogurt and pomegranate seeds. Added bonus: many, many leftover pomegranate seeds for future garnishes and snacking.
Even more bonus: I (and my entire apartment) smell like fried things instead of dead things. It's a significant improvement over the "three showers a day" method of not reeking of formaldehyde. This anatomy thing is tough in more ways than one.
EDIT: That last paragraph reminds me of Heidegger. "Thingliness of the thing" indeed.