In honor of the first night of Hanukkah, I made a batch of latkes (potato pancakes). This is no easy feat. The batter is wet, and as it fries, it sprays oil over the stove, my forearm and nearby counters. Even today, my place reeks. But served with a dollop of apple sauce and sour cream, this could be my favorite meal of the year. After all the effort, I poured a martini, lit the menorah (candles) and savored a holiday moment, that despite experiencing alone, felt utterly complete.