OyChicago blog

"Tech" and "startup" are popular buzzwords. Use them together, and you've got "synergy," the crowned king of buzzwords. These words are like fuel to a flaming conversation, blazing with interest and hype.

Just 15-20 years ago, tech startups were rare gems, and few were lucky enough to jump on the bandwagon. Think Google, Amazon and the fashionably late -- yet my personal favorites -- Facebook and Instagram.

Like a rom-com, it's a roller-coaster of (market) sentiment full of the highest of highs and lowest of lows. Not all tech contenders could weather the deadly storms, the dot-com bubble and housing bubble (who knew bubbles were so dangerous?), and yet the chosen few prevailed. And after all these years, we stay enamored as ever with the idea of startups and even more enchanted with "tech startups."

So is it even fathomable to think that tech startups may be losing their charm? If so, why are these lovable underdogs becoming less lovable? Here are a few reasons I'm noticing:

Quantity over quality

The space feels saturated, claustrophobic even. Like Starbucks in the early 2000s, startups are popping up on every corner, each one sounding more promising than the last with a killer mission statement to boot.

But the market is free -- and so is the consumer -- to determine their fates. It's not all glamorous and there's a good reason actuaries have jobs. Numbers/stats/math don't lie: 92, I repeat, 92 percent of startups fail in the first three years.

And still, like the Gold Rush, hundreds of thousands flock to them. I'm beginning to wonder who doesn't work at a startup? Such a job is losing its exclusivity, and this deters some talent from joining the club. VIP status just doesn't feel the same anymore.

Perks aren't so "sexy" anymore

You've got concierge service, free meals, free dry-cleaning, free phone and laptop, free housing, free booze, and even free puppies. So what? So does everybody else. Tech perks are losing appeal because they are no longer perks -- they're expectations. Provide them or forget about world-class talent.

Talented people like to be taken care of, and companies feel pressure to up the ante on the swag they provide or need to create insane buzz around their business. To remain successful incubators for all this raw talent, it'll cost a pretty penny. It's not clear whether this is fortunate or unfortunate, but the bar sits high and pretty, which probably benefits us all in some way.

Today a start-up, tomorrow a giant

When you've got a great idea (and I mean a really great idea), the right tools (*cough*, capital, *cough*), and most importantly the right people (and lots and lots of luck), there's a sliver of hope a startup might materialize. But a startup is only as successful as the brevity of its startup status.

Look at it from any angle, but the fact remains that a startup is a true success when it is no longer considered a startup. Keeping that in mind, the fundamental goal of any tech startup is exponential growth (and revenue). To continue moving full-steam ahead, you lose room for the start-up culture, flexibility and appeal.

It's a hefty trade-off, but one that founders and VCs are game to make because for them, that means money. For you, the employee, that means fate at the hands of new management or possibly shareholders. The startup phase is a glamorous run, but it's short-lived.

Despite these three charm-busters, past and current tech startups are pretty much killing it right now (Tumblr, Spotify, Instagram, Snapchat etc.). In fact, they're young, and more popular and attractive than ever.

There's a lot to consider before joining a startup, but they're quite literally shaping our modern world. Tech startups are always on the leading edge of problem solving and innovation. Many people still consider being a part of one a privilege and honor; and if you find the right one, the sky's no longer the limit.

There is a period in every geek, nerd or dork's life when he or she has to grow up. You still remain a geek, nerd or dork, of course, but growing up sort of happens. Things like meeting a special someone, for example, sort of happen. And unless you meet on the floor of a comic convention admiring each other's cosplay outfits, the odds you will have to share whatever it is you geek, nerd or dork out over with that person. It's a big moment in a relationship, because part of you knows inside that if they can't accept or learn to love whatever your geeky, nerdy or dorky obsession is, how can they possibly be the right one for you?

For a lot of men (or perhaps one should say "boys" in this instance), that obsession is Star Wars. Okay, maybe it's not an obsession for everyone, but at one point in almost (most) every boy's life, he becomes crazy about Star Wars. You might be inactive in your Star Wars fandom for a time, but that will never change how you feel about these movies, or how quickly you will defend them.

My obsession with Star Wars catapulted when I was about 10, a couple years before Episode I came out. I began reading Star Wars books, blew my allowance on Star Wars toys and even tried to orchestrate a Star Wars theatrical play with my classmates during recess in the fourth grade.

My love of Star Wars carried on naturally through the release of Episode III my senior year of high school, when I worked at the LEGO Store at the mall and sold countless Star Wars LEGO sets (and bought a few for myself, admittedly). I'm not as active in my love of the franchise anymore, but that has no bearing on my absolute love for the films, excitement for the new ones, and my total fan allegiance -- and I suspect many others feel the same way.

So if someone we know hasn't seen these movies, it's troubling -- deeply troubling. And if that someone is someone we might consider spending the rest of our lives with, that someone just has to like Star Wars, or at least understand it and not dismiss or belittle it and its contributions to humanity's collective imagination.

An on-the-nose depiction of this sentiment appeared in the Season 4 premiere of How I Met Your Mother, in which the main character, Ted, learns that his then-fiancé has never seen Star Wars. He says she has to watch it, and determines that if she doesn't like it, there's no way he can marry her. She endures the first film and doesn't like it, but she lies to Ted and tells his friend Marshall that she's prepared to pretend she likes it for the rest of her life. It's supposed to be sweet that she's willing to do this for Ted, but then they don't end up together.

The thought never occurred to me that I should probe into whether or not Mollie had seen Star Wars, (I plan to marry her regardless, though it would be nice if she at least supported my Star Wars fandom), but then a couple of years ago, well before our engagement, she volunteered this confession, then suggested we watch all the movies together.

Wait, what?

Watch. All. The. Star Wars. Movies? Together?

And she meant all six of them. She didn't even want to be spared of the prequel trilogy.

After a failed attempt (we watched just two right after she suggested the idea but then stopped), we got back on track to watch all six in advance of The Force Awakens coming out this week, like many of you are probably also doing right now.

When we told our friends and family that we were watching all the movies together, they all had one perfectly understandable question for us: What order will you watch them in?

In my mind, there was only one film that we would be starting with -- Episode IV: A New Hope. You have to experience it where it all began to understand the phenomenon. After discussion with my then-roommate -- my closest Star Wars brother in arms -- the kid I sat and built LEGO X-Wings and TIE Fighters with in his basement 16 years ago and who will be with me Thursday night for The Force Awakens -- suggested an order that he read about online: IV, V, I*, II, III, VI. ( Episode I is optional). If you know the films, you know this order is truly inspired.

Before we started watching, I had to find out what Mollie knew already. She was familiar with character names like Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia, as well as Darth Vader. Also, Obi-Wan Kenobi was an alien. When I explained that he wasn't, I asked her to describe him. She called him a little guy who is like "the Dobby (from Harry Potter) of Star Wars."

Master Yoda has never heard a more debasing comparison.

I also had to take a moment to silently curse pop culture when she told me that she knew Darth Vader's "secret." The line "I am your father" had become such a canonized movie quote, thereby ruining one of the greatest twists in movie history for those who barely know anything about Star Wars -- and don't speak German ("vader" means "father"). There was another twist she didn't know about, but had it ruined by the surge in Star Wars posts on Facebook just before she was set to discover it. I was devastated; the payoff would've been huge given the order we were watching the movies in.

All that aside, I was intrigued at what she would be drawn to, what her takeaways would be, what her perceptions of the characters and other elements of the story would be, and how well the film would hold up over 35 years to someone who has seen similar things that are more visually impressive, someone who no longer has a completely unblemished child-like sense of wonder.

So I took her on as my padowan learner to begin our journey to a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. As of this writing, we still have Return of the Jedi left, but here are the big takeaways from the experience thus far:

Be patient with someone who has never seen Star Wars

Like, really patient. Mollie has no idea how children are able to follow these story lines. The prequels especially are full of political intrigue and power moves. If you start to ask yourself why stuff is happening in these movies, you will end up confused. The action/interesting parts of Star Wars often overshadow or distract from the details.

Plot aside, there are also 500 kinds of aliens, planets and spaceships in this franchise. Mollie could not tell the good guys from the bad half the time, which becomes even harder to do in Episodes II and III. I took for granted that I had spent my whole childhood learning what things names were through books, toys and whatever else. Not once in the movie (I'm pretty sure) is an AT-AT, for example, called an AT-AT. They're called Imperial walkers. How did I learn that?? Unless you engulf yourself in the mythology of the Star Wars universe, you will be confused, so you need to be patient with someone who has no concept of these things.

Star Wars has a lot of religious and philosophical ideas

As a social worker, Mollie pointed out throughout the films moments that Jedi wisdom sounded awfully similar to concepts in social work, but she also noticed that the Force is an analogy for God, or a divine presence. Her keenest observation was that in the same way the Force can be used for good or evil, so can divine belief, such as what we see today with religious extremism.

It's easy to criticize the Star Wars films for thematic simplicity, and take credit away from George Lucas' genius for choosing to focus on basic platitudes of good and evil rather than moral complexity. But there's universality in these ideas, and what makes Star Wars have such broad appeal is this focus on fundamentals.

Darth Vader is the main character of the entire Star Wars saga

If you've never thought of this before, then watch the films either in episode order or the IV, V, I, II, III, VI order we chose. Obviously the prequels are all about how Anakin Skywalker becomes Darth Vader, but when you weave them with the original films, you see that the whole series is about him all along. In fact, Mollie wishes we could watch IV and V again now that we've seen all the prequels and she knows the man behind the Darth Vader helmet, and I would agree. It's illuminating, frankly, and it makes me all the more interested in the direction of Episode VII and the films to come in terms of how they will fit with the overall saga's arc and themes

R2-D2 and C3PO are the heart and soul of Star Wars

The misadventures of everyone's favorite astro and protocol droids often distract from the exciting parts of Star Wars, but they represent everything that's lovable about these movies. (Chewbacca too, I should say.) Without them, Star Wars would be kind of hollow, maybe even arrogant. I could tell Mollie was keeping tabs on them, and enjoyed the many ways they pop in and out of the six movies, even if sometimes out of nowhere.

There are a lot of bad components in Star Wars , but …

I love the movies and I will defend even Episode I, but you notice a lot of bad storytelling choices in all six films, even if you are new to the series like Mollie (unless you're a kid). Romance, character development, dialogue, transitions -- George Lucas is not a brilliant filmmaker he's just an incredibly imaginative one who knows how to inspire his audience and that sticking to the fundamentals of storytelling and universal ideas is how you create a pop-culture phenomenon.

It's true what they say about our kids: we learn more from them than we will ever teach them. Every day that I spend with my 18-month-old son is not only a lesson on how I can be a better parent, but how I can just be a better person. Here are just a few things that I have learned from watching, parenting, and loving our little toddler, Johnny.

1. You don't need to know the words to sing along.

At 18 months, Johnny's vocabulary is expanding every day. He isn't exactly expressive enough to be reciting Shakespeare, but he has reached a stage of development in which he still wants to engage in the rhythm of conversation.

We have caught him many times pointing at objects going "DUHH, OOO, Nee" as if he is counting without knowing the words for numbers or fully grasping the concepts behind numbers. On other occasions he will babble along to music that is either played on the radio in the car or that we are singing to him. Again, he doesn't know the words, but he knows that that only way to learn the language is to fail at it until he gets it right.

Too often in my adult life I have hesitated because I didn't feel fully prepared. I have held back because I didn't think I knew all of what was required of me. I have chosen not to start because I didn't know if I could do it perfectly. Johnny has reminded me that it's okay to get it wrong the first few times in order to practice. With practice I can make perfect, if I only dare to start practicing.

2. Most stress goes away with a hug and a kiss

Adults and kids both get riled up about the littlest things. Just the other day, we witnessed a complete meltdown because we didn't want Johnny using his fork to stir the milk in his cup. He was literally crying over spilt milk! … Or I guess the fact that we stopped him from spilling the milk.

In the midst of this, my wife picks him up, holds him in her arms, and kisses the top of his head. The tears stopped flowing and he let out a big sigh. I brought him a bottle of milk, which he took, and the tantrum was over.

Kids trip, fall and scream all of the time. Being a toddler is frustrating because as cognitive abilities grow, the words and physical abilities to express them do not always develop at the same rate. Being a young person in this world is like being the new person at work. Everything takes longer, you don't fully understand the language and culture at the office and you can't figure out where they hide all the supplies you need to do your job.

At the end of some of our very stressful days, maybe in lieu of a freak-out, perhaps it would be better to find someone who can hold us, or provide us with affection.

3. What makes us most happy is when we are all together with those we love most

We were in Italy, for a week, which meant a week away from Johnny, who stayed with his grandparents. As he was playing with his toys on our first morning back home, he came over to me, pulled my leg and dragged me over to join him. He moved a pillow in just the right place for me to sit next to him. Standing up after only a moment, he rushed back to my wife and grabbed her arm to come as well. She joined us by the pillow and we all sat there together on the floor.

Johnny started laughing, giggling uncontrollably as if he had just received some life-changing news. He was ecstatic just to be sitting with the people he loved most -- Mom and Dad. That was the moment in his day that brought him the most joy after being apart from us for a whole week.

I find myself searching for so many ways to entertain us and make our moments seem more special. I buy things, I take us places and I schedule activities. It's hard not to get caught up in all the things at my disposal that I might consume or do. Johnny reminds me that if I really just want to be happy, I have everything -- or everyone -- right there. I just need to make the time to sit down with them.

4. Whenever you hear music, just dance!

For Johnny, where there is music there is dancing. Last weekend, a new Chanukah compilation was an opportunity to grab a giant stuffed bear and trot around the living room. Even a phone ringing or alarm buzzing has enough of a beat for Johnny to start moving. Music brings such joy and helps him find new ways to wiggle his tiny body. The more he dances, the more he smiles and shrieks with delight.

At first I used to wonder how he had such great rhythm. Clearly, he couldn't have gotten it from either of his parents. (True story: we actually both hurt ourselves taking a beginners salsa lesson because we were so out of sync with the music.) But then, when I really thought about it, I wondered if we just lost that rhythm somewhere along the way, because unlike Johnny, we got scared about how we looked or what people might think. With that realization, I found myself eager to join my little one in his dancing escapades and found out what was making him so happy.

5. Run, don't walk through life.

We always like to tell people that Johnny never learned to walk; he learned to run first and figured out how to slow down later. A lot of kids love nothing more than to find a big open field, a long sidewalk or huge playground with space to just ratchet those little legs up to top speed. It's exhausting to keep up with and also inspiring to know how fearlessly fast this little one wants to go.

My life moves fast. Every moment is truly gone before I have a chance to know it even existed. I can either choose to work against nature and fight to slow it down or jump on the rollercoaster and move at the speed of life. With that notion, I am most grateful I have my baby boy in front of me, leading the charge.

I happen to love Thanksgiving -- a lot; the family, the loud laughter and the food. Ohhh the food!

When I do a holiday party there are a lot of people at my house. The tables are breaking at the rims with food and liquor and the house aches to break at the seams with all the laughter and chatter. It is always a good time and everyone always leaves with full bellies and big smiles.

This year my cousin and I had decided to combine our Thanksgivings into one. They have a beautiful house that actually has a gigantic basement complete with a fancy bar and a second kitchen. So cooking up a storm in that house was awesome.

When we started talking about the menu for the 20-some people attending the Thanksgiving feast this year it hit me … what am I going to eat? No really? I mean, so many side dishes for Thanksgiving either are full of dairy or are laden with meat products. And my mashed potatoes; I literally LOVE mashed potatoes, creamy and delicious in all their glory. I could eat an entire bowl (and have).

And let me tell you … I love my family but if I even started telling them, particularly the men, that they are eating vegan they would sit me down and explain what a freak I am and how I am depriving my body of protein and how I need to be institutionalized. (Funny story: I was informed by someone that the Russian radio had a debate about vegan vs omnivore eating and that the World Health Organization said that vegans are clinically insane. Don't these people have cancer and diabetes to worry about?)

Anyhow … my goal for this year was to create ridiculously delicious food that just so happens to be vegan or at the very least vegetarian. And then at the end I will scream out "SURPRISE, you have been punked! This is VEGAN!!!" Or not … because then I really would be a lunatic.

Anyhow … these mashed sweet potatoes were born one night when I found four large sweet potatoes in my pantry looking sad and lonely. It happened to be the same night that I was making my Panera copycat vegan butternut squash soup and I was inspired by the magic ingredient in the soup that makes it so unbelievably creamy: coconut milk.

Chef note: When I talk about coconut milk I am talking about the stuff in a can, not in the cartons next to the milk. That stuff is thinned out and watered down and while it is good as a drink, it is not for cooking or to add creaminess to dishes.

After the potatoes were boiled, I drained them really well.

Chef note: No one wants soggy mashed potatoes. Water and cream do not mix. Drain them really well in a colander so they are nice and dry.

I added a bit of vegan butter once the potatoes were cooked and some coconut milk as well as a secret ingredient I use in my Crazy Creamy Mashed Potatoes -- sour cream (except this time I used vegan sour cream). I added a very good pinch of salt and pepper and some fresh thyme. Then I whizzed it up in my mixer. I think this was imperative as it really got the taters nice and creamy.

Chef note: Check out my super special make-ahead tip in the notes of the recipe.

The result? It was FANTASTIC. Hubs loved it. And he was in disbelief how creamy and delish they were without all that cream and butter.

Although Thanksgiving is long gone, there's still plenty of time to take advantage of these taters in your winter menu.

Vegan Creamy Mashed Sweet Potatoes

From girlandthekitchen.com

Ingredients

4 large sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into half moon shapes
3 tbsp vegan sour cream
3 tbsp vegan butter such as Earth Balance
4 tbsp coconut milk plus extra to garnish * (Note 1)
2 thyme stems, with the leaves removed, plus extra for garnish* (Note 2)
salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

1. Rinse the potatoes well as they tend to hold onto some of the dirt even after they are peeled.

2. Add to a large pot and fill completely with water. Bring to a boil, lower to a simmer and cook until knife tender -- when a knife goes into the potatoes smoothly.

3. Drain in a colander. This step is crucial because you want to get as much water out of the potatoes as possible.

4. Now add BACK into the pot that the potatoes were in. The pot will now be dry because the residual heat will have dried it up. If not, then just wipe the access water out with a paper towel before adding in the potatoes.*

5. Add the remaining ingredients into the pot with the potatoes. Now add this point you can either use a hand mixer, a stand mixer or a plain masher to get everything smoothed out.

6. Taste for salt and pepper and season accordingly.

7. Before serving, swirl in some coconut milk on the very top and sprinkle with thyme.

Notes

1. Use the coconut milk from the can NOT the cartons. Stir up the liquid and the solids in the can so that it is completely combined. This will give you the perfect texture.

2. Removing thyme leaves is super simple! With one hand hold the top of the stem and with the other hand just slide your hand down the stem to remove the little leaves and voila, de-stemmed!

3. Personally I get the creamiest outcome when I use my stand mixer with the whip attachment. However, hand mixers work just as well. And when you are in a pinch for time, the hand masher will do just fine.

4. Make ahead tip: You can cut up your potatoes and store them in your pot of water up to 2 days ahead of time. Then once your potatoes are cooked. Drain them and keep them in your pot. Right before your guests come, heat up the remaining ingredients until they are melted through and add to the potatoes. You will have perfect creamy potatoes that are gorgeously warmed through!

Dear Reader,

If you should ever have to give me a gift for any reason -- be it this week's holiday of Chanukah, my birthday, perhaps an anniversary, or maybe even a very futuristic Mothers Day -- I hereby henceforth declare my written permission for you to purchase for me a gift card.

Here's the part where you gasp. "A gift card?! What an impersonal gift!"

But I'll repeat: You have been granted my official permission (is anyone out there a notary?) to get me a gift card and call it a day. And yes, believe it or not, this can even apply to husbands and mothers.

When it comes to gifts, I can see how I may be difficult to shop for. I'm usually at least a season behind the rest of the fashion world, I'm pretty particular about jewelry (I like silver but I'm not a huge fan of gold), and I like dollars but I don't like any scents (get it?). For whatever reason you're buying me a gift, I am so grateful, and the last thing I would want to do would be to stress you out.

A gift card to one of my favorite stores (Or really any store! I can find something anywhere!) is a nice way to put your gift to good use. As my personal shopping budget comes up a bit shy of the million-dollar mark, these gift cards come in handy to update my closet with more recent fashion or the latest gadget.

I do understand, though, the need for wanting to make a gift more "personal." A gift card may be construed as cold or lacking in creativity. But if you're feeling a case of "gift card giving blah," here are a few ways to make a gift card gift shine a bit more like you.

Be creative in your choice of gift card store. Maybe you've heard that I like scarves (it's true!) and you have a favorite scarf store. I'd love to try a new store, and a gift card is a wonderful incentive.

Pair the gift card with a related gift. My mom used to get people gift cards to Blockbuster (RIP) along with a couple packs of popcorn, and I thought it was the cutest thing. What about a gift card to Old Navy on top of a fun pair of mittens? Or a gift card to a sports store with a nice water bottle?

Wrap the gift card in a big box. It's fun to unwrap a piano-sized box shrouded in paper reminiscent of the Fourth of July. It's even more fun to find a little box inside of a big box. Make me work for the gift card. Heck, send me on a scavenger hunt around the neighborhood to make me find the gift card.

Write me a poem. You can include a thoughtful, creative card with your gift! Make a collage of pictures and memories of us. Scrape up your sonnet-writing skills or write about how I'm L ively, I nteresting, and A ctive. Your creativity in the card is worth more than the gift.

So, use this guide to the gift card when thinking about what to get me or other people. Happy Chanukah, happy birthday, happy anniversary, happy Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, and happy Monday!

Every year, friends and family gather to celebrate the miracle of an event that happened in ancient times. After the Maccabian revolt, there was only enough oil in the temple to last one day. Miraculously, it lasted eight. All around the world, Jews gather to celebrate the holiday for eight days. We also gather to eat, for what would a Jewish holiday be without food?

The holiday commemorates the oil lasting for eight days and to honor that, we Jews celebrate by eating amazing, crispy, crunchy, delicious foods fried in oil. We certainly know how to party!

Latkes (potato pancakes) and sufganiyot (jelly donuts) are central players in many celebrations. I love latkes and oh, how I love me some donuts! But making latkes  for a party also means making a main dish and then a main dish leads to sides (latkes are the starch; I mean a veggie side) and then there is a salad and then maybe an appetizer etc… you can see where this is going. Before you know it, you are cooking for days and that is only for one of eight festive nights!

But, what if there was a dish that was all inclusive? What if your dish could be the main, the side, the everything? I am thinking about a delicious platter of crunchy, and satisfying Fried Fish and Chips. I simply crave fish and chips. They are the answer to my holiday quest for Jewish comfort fried food.

It is not random that I am planning my fried fest to include savory fish and chips. Fried fish is actually Jewish in origin. Marrano Jews dipped their fish in egg and bread crumbs and fried it. The "chip" part of the dish came later. The first fish and chip shop was founded by an Ashkenazi Jew in 1860 and the rest is history.

This year for Chanukah, I am celebrating a true Jewish food and by munching and crunching my way through Fish and Chips.

Fish and Chips

For the batter:
1½ cups all-purpose flour
½ cup rice flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
½ teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper
Dash of Old Bay seasoning
1 bottle dark brown beer

1½ pounds cod, tilapia, or other firm fleshed lean fish, cut into 2 inch pieces
4 large russet potatoes
Cornstarch for dredging
4 cups canola oil

Directions

Preheat oven 200 degrees

1. Place ice and water in a large bowl. Fit a mixing bowl into the ice water (this step will yield a light and delicate batter).

2. Whisk all the ingredients for the batter together over the ice. The batter can be made one hour ahead of frying and should be kept on ice. 

3. Pat dry the fish and set aside.

4. Slice the potatoes, skin on, into wedges about 1 inch thick and place in cold water.

5. Heat the oil in a large heavy-duty saucepan to 320 degrees.

6. Dry the potatoes completely and fry them in batches until they are opaque and limp. Transfer the par-cooked potatoes to a sheet pan lined with paper towels or a brown paper bag (helps to sop up the oil).

7. Increase the heat until the oil reaches 360 and add the potatoes. Fry the potatoes until they are golden brown and crispy. Transfer to a lined pan. Keep the potatoes warm in the oven.

8. Dredge the fish in the cornstarch and then into the batter. Fry the fish in batches until golden brown and crispy. Transfer the fish to a lined platter and keep warm in the oven.

Lemon-Garlic Aioli

½ cup mayonnaise (preferably homemade)
2 garlic cloves, grated on a microplane
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon olive oil
Zest of 1 lemon
½ teaspoon kosher salt
½ teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
3 tablespoons finely chopped Italian parsley
Dash of hot sauce
1 tablespoon prepared horseradish

Directions

Whisk all of the ingredients together.

Vanilla Bean Zeppole

What is the holiday without a dessert? Here is a simple and delicious, lighter-than-air donut-called a zeppole. Chag Chanukah sameach! Happy Chanukah!

1 vanilla bean, scraped
½ cup sugar, plus
3 tablespoons
2 tablespoons ground cinnamon
1 stick butter
¼ teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup water
1 cup all-purpose flour
4 eggs

Directions

1. Cut open the vanilla bean lengthwise. Using the back of a knife, scrape along the inside of the vanilla bean to collect the seeds. Scrape vanilla bean seeds into a small bowl. Add the ½ cup sugar and cinnamon and stir to combine. Set aside.

2. In a medium saucepan combine the butter, salt, 3 tablespoons of sugar, and water over medium heat. Bring to a boil. Take pan off the heat and stir in the flour. Return pan to the heat and stir continuously until mixture forms a ball, about 3 to 5 minutes.

3. Transfer the flour mixture to a medium bowl or the work bowl of a stand mixer. Using a mixer, add eggs, one at a time, incorporating each egg completely before adding the next. Beat until smooth. If not frying immediately, cover with plastic wrap and reserve in the refrigerator for up to 1 day.

4. Pour enough oil into a large frying pan to reach a depth of 2 inches. Heat the oil over medium heat until a deep fry thermometer registers 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

5. Using a small ice cream scoop or two small spoons, carefully drop about a tablespoon of the dough into the hot olive oil, frying in batches. Turn the zeppole once or twice, cooking until golden and puffed up, about five minutes. Drain on paper towels. Toss with cinnamon and sugar. Arrange on a platter and serve immediately.

There is an interesting account written by Clearchus, a student of Aristotle, telling of when Aristotle was confronted by a Jewish sage. The sage (unnamed) had come to test Aristotle's renowned knowledge and insights. However, according to Clearchus, Aristotle was the one who left impressed by the sage's knowledge and insights.

When we hear the names, "Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates," we feel admiration and wonder at those great wise men. When we hear the names, "Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob," it doesn't seem to have the same effect. Perhaps that's because we don't realize what they have contributed.

So, for this Chanukah, in honor of the eight nights of light, here are eight great leaders of the Jewish people with one contribution each (though they have given plenty more) to the world as we know it. And as the "Relationships Rabbi," I'm going to take a view on these contributions from a relationships perspective.

1. Joseph

As a young man of only 17 years, Joseph was abandoned by his brethren and painfully sold to slavery. He found himself emotionally and physically destitute, eventually sold to a wealthy Egyptian man, Potiphar. Potiphar's beautiful wife takes a liking to Joseph and consistently attempts to seduce him. He was alone, forsaken by his family, in a foreign country, living as a slave. He had every excuse in the book to give up on his integrity. And yet he refused. This commitment to morality, especially marital morality, has been, and unfortunately still is, a lesson for civilization to continue to learn from.

2. Aaron

Known throughout Jewish literature as, "The Seeker of Peace," Aaron was a very holy man. One of his first "cameos" in the Bible is when he heard his younger brother, Moses, was going to become the leader of the nation. Their father, Amram, had also been the leader of the nation. It would make the most sense that Aaron, a man of great scholarship and wisdom who is also the oldest in the family, would follow in that role. However, his brother was Divinely declared as the leader. What was his reaction? Indignation? Remorse? Frustration? It is beautifully and succinctly stated, "His heart rejoiced." The joy for others and their accomplishments to trump our expectations for ourselves is a profound lesson in relationships.

3. Rebecca

As a stranger came to town with his long entourage of servants and camels, he went to the well to fill up on water after a long journey. Not knowing who he was or what he was there for, Rebecca offered him, his servants and his camels water. (And camels drink a lot of water!) The great lesson of honoring and taking care of others is beautifully exemplified by our matriarch.

4. King David

Arguably the greatest leader of all times, King David was a powerhouse -- a genius beyond comprehension and mastermind at war, poetry, scholarship and governing. Yet he was never apprehensive to admit to making a mistake. We learn the essence of admitting to our mistakes, learning from them and repenting to change for the future from our great beloved leader, King David.

5. Moses

As the receptor of the Divine word to be brought to the entire nation of the Jewish people and eventually to the world, there doesn't seem to be a more honorable and esteemed position ever to exist. And yet the Bible's one description of Moses' character is simply, "the most humble of all men." His recognition of the greatness of every human being and their Divine soul was why he was charged with the great task of bearing the Divine word to the world. And his great accomplishment of character development is perhaps one of the greatest lessons that he taught us.

6. Rachel

After meeting the love of her life, her sister was snuck under the chuppah instead. Did she cry out? Did she tell her beloved fiancé that she will seemingly never be able to bond with him? No. Out of deep empathy to her sister's shame, she did not speak up. To reach such a profound level of empathy even in the midst of our own emotional pain is something we dream of. Our matriarch embodied it, lived it and taught it to us.

7. Joshua

He assumed leadership of the Jewish people after Moses. What were his great qualifications? We know he was close to Moses and learned from him regularly. We also know he was Divinely declared for the position. However, what is interesting to note, is the description of his merit to this position. Jewish literature relates that he would clean up after everyone in the study halls. He made sure everything was taken care of behind the scenes. No one was watching. He saw the need for the community to have this taken care of, and so he took it upon himself to do that. He exemplifies the concept of looking at the community and seeking what needs to get done, with no self-aggrandizement or gratification taken into account.

8. Matityahu

And for the final relationship insight, we'll talk about the Maccabees. Imagine a world without marital allegiance, empathy, altruistic communal concerns, a willingness and desire to amend mistakes, kindness to strangers ... The Maccabees knew the great wisdom of those listed above and much more was at stake when the Greeks attempted to Hellenize the Jewish people. They recognized that there is wisdom and meaning beyond what is scientifically quantifiable. Their victory proved it, as a few farmers defeated the world's greatest army. They were willing to fight and die for the sake of a spiritual existence that goes beyond the physical reality.

Jewish people, stand proud! You have contributed and continue to tribute great light unto the world! Happy Chanukah!

While cleaning out the closet of my childhood home over the fall holidays, I dug up a tattered cookbook made from construction paper and crayon. The recipes, created by my fellow Jewish preschool classmates and me back in the 1980s, weren't exactly of Julia Child's "Beef Bourguignon" caliber.

No, this collection read more like a humor book than a cookbook. One recipe was for popcorn calling for extra "drops of apple juice." The ingredients for the spaghetti and meatballs specified exactly "90 noodles."

And my recipe for "corned beef sandwiches" took the cake. It read: "She (I'm assuming my mom was the "she") buys corned beef at the store. Then she takes it off the wax paper. Then she puts it on a plate. She gives us bread too."

My contribution to the book was an odd selection because my mother is a wonderful home cook and baker, but for some reason her simple deli sandwich prep was the meal that stuck out in my preschool mind, the one I thought merited saving for posterity.

Each child wrote his or her cooking instructions in the third person -- usually referencing a mother or an occasional dad or grandma preparing each step of the recipe.

There's something so Jewish about that amateur cookbook. The compilation sparked for us children, barely out of the womb, our introduction to thinking and talking about food -- and really does it get more Jewish than that?

Whether its roast chicken on Shabbat, blintzes and kugel for Yom Kippur break-fast, or, heck, Chinese food on Christmas, food is a core value for us -- along with Torah, family, and acts of loving kindness. As the old joke goes, when our people aren't currently eating, we're usually planning for our next meal.

The cookbook is a Jewish artifact in another way too. The recipes were passed down to us from our families-our parents and grandparents and those that came before them. From one generation to another -- l'dor v'dor -- these recipes link our family tree from past to present to future. It's the power of Jewish continuity -- in culinary form.

My great-grandmother taught my grandma the recipes back in a tiny shtetl in Belarus, and my grandma, in turn, recorded the recipes either in her mind or on paper, and then taught them to my mother in America. My mother, then, passed them down to my sister and me when we were growing up.

As in so many other homes, my mom would employ her children as pint-sized sous chefs in the kitchen. We little ones always got the fun jobs, mixing ingredients with a big spoon, dipping our noses into the vanilla to smell the sweet, singular scent, and rolling out the dough for sugar cookies in the shape of dreidels, Haman hats, and shofars. Today, my nephews are the sous chefs, and maybe someday, I'll instruct my own children in how to prepare those same recipes, where we'll read the directions together on the next iteration of the iPad.

Now that I'm all grown up, my mom is still transmitting her culinary knowledge to me. I'll often call her up for guidance on recipes. From the aisles of a Jewel or Hungarian, I'll ask her random questions: Can I substitute broth for stock? Can Greek yogurt be used in place of sour cream? When do I add paprika? I swear half the time I know the answers -- or at least Google or Siri do -- but it's just comforting and familiar to hear her on the other end of the line.

There's a paradox in chatting on a 21st century smartphone, while keeping alive these old family recipes -- and, with them, keeping alive a special piece of my grandparents and great-grandparents. We're honoring the legacy and wisdom of our loved ones who came before us -- pulling parts of our Jewish families out of the past and into the present day.

On that same weekend last fall when I discovered that silly little cookbook, my mother, sister, and I prepared Shabbat dinner for the rest of our family. And just like when we were growing up -- only this time around my sister and I are taller than my mom and there's more wine involved -- we treasure these recent moments too.

That evening, we made chilled cherry soup, London broil, potatoes, challah, and brownies. As we whisked, seasoned, chopped, muddled, and sipped, we gabbed about everything -- work, the presidential race, Kabbalah, family resemblance, relationships, and more.

The cooking set the backdrop for our bonding. Those old recipes -- in our home and millions of other Jewish homes around the world -- have seen it all. They've traveled a long way in miles and years -- by train, boat, and plane -- often one of the few treasures to survive pogroms and war.

The recipes, for kugel, mandel bread, charoset, and more, serve as a constant in our volatile Jewish history -- a witness at our Shabbat and holiday tables to our conversations, songs, tears, and laughter, a witness to our Jewish story.

Every Chanukah we are reminded of the phrase "nes gadol hayah sham" -- "a great miracle happened there," and we celebrate the various miracles of Chanukah. But as I'm writing this from my new apartment in New York City, I'm thankful for a different type of miracle, and the "there" in this case is a little more complicated.

I called Chicago home for a long time, but after two of the most stressful months of my career, I miraculously made the move to the Big Apple; to a neighborhood I've been wanting to live for more than a year and a half.

On a cold Friday night in February 2014, I went to a Modern Orthodox synagogue called Ohab Zedek on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, a shul known as the go-to place for young professionals on Friday nights. As I waited for Kabbalat Shabbat services to begin, at least 300 20-somethings filled the shul, and after services, 95th Street became the scene of an impromptu singles' event.

Finally, I understood why my college friends -- and a number of articles -- kept referring to the Upper West Side was "a scene." I'd never seen anything close to this in Chicago, and all I knew was that I wanted to be a part of it.

It's safe to call New York the Jewish capital of America, and I've heard there are more observant, single 20- and 30-somethings there than there are in the rest of the country combined. Chances are if you talk to a young Modern Orthodox Jew living in the city from out of state, they'll tell you that these numbers are the number one reason they're living here.

It also goes without saying that keeping kosher and finding a synagogue that matches your belief system is infinitely easier here than anywhere else. Looking for some kosher meat late on a Saturday night? No chance if you live in Lakeview. Milt's (the only option) closes well before midnight. On the Upper West Side, a burger or shawarma is a stone's throw away -- even at 3 a.m.

But when I came back to Chicago after that eye-opening trip, I suddenly found my heart in two places. On one hand, I enjoyed the life I've made for myself in the Lakeview community. And the idea of paying double in rent for half the space was certainly a hard pill to swallow.

So for nearly a year and a half, I flirted with the idea of moving and visited nearly a half-dozen times, but never actually made the move and constantly made excuses for why I couldn't. I had a cool job working for a hot bourbon brand, a spacious apartment and, most recently, a summer romance I thought could last. Moving was a nice idea to fantasize over, I convinced myself, but a far cry from reality -- or so I thought.

In August, everything went downhill. That summer romance suddenly ended; what I thought was a dream job started becoming less and less of a fit and I could tell it was mutual. By October, I was let go. Feeling like I had been punched in the gut but like nothing was holding me back, I finally made the decision. Despite my lack of connections, the seemingly impossible logistics of moving in the winter and five months left on my Chicago lease, I decided it was time to go for it and move to New York.

I'm not sure if divine miracles happen anymore, but what followed certainly felt like one. Two weeks after I made my decision, I headed to New York with five interviews and a big dream to live. By the time I came back to Chicago, I had an offer that I ended up taking.

But that was only the first miracle I needed. Next, I had to find an apartment for Dec. 1, which is the worst possible time to find roommates, and that was on top of finding someone to sublet my Chicago room for five months. To add to the degree of difficulty, I needed to find someone who keeps kosher -- something you can't easily find through airbnb or craigslist.

But in the 11th hour, everything fell into place. I found an apartment just a half a block from the ideal train to get me to work, found a third roommate and someone to take over my sublease at close to full price all in the span of three weeks.

As we light the menorah in celebration of Chanukah, the message of believing in miracles even during times of immense adversity still ring true today. When I light the candles this year from my new apartment in New York, I'll be reminded of how one of my biggest disappointments led to the start of a new opportunity in a place where I've wanted to be for so long.

May this year's Chanukah lights inspire us to be extra ambitious and strive for the seemingly impossible. No matter how big the challenge, may this be the year we are fortunate to receive miracles beyond our wildest dreams.

From New York to Chicago and beyond, chag sameach.