Ears, Hats, Puns?: cookies. yum.As if we needed another reason to love a holiday that encourages us to drink heavily, Purim (coming up on Thursday night) is also the time of hamantaschen, those deliciously filled, triangular cookies that have inspired years of debate. Growing up, most of us were fed (and happily consumed) the lip-smacking lie that we eat hamantaschen because Haman, the villain of the Megillah, wore a tri-cornered hat. Why is "eating Haman’s hat" considered an appropriate way of celebrating his demise? And what's with Hebrew hamantaschen being called Oznei Haman, or Haman’s ears? Haman had triangle shaped ears, or maybe a tri-cornered hat, and so we eat poppyseed cookies? What’s the story?

Haman: a realisitic depiction? Not so muchA surprising amount of scholarly research has been conducted on the subject of hamantaschen (also spelled hamentaschen, hamantashen, and hamentashes). Philologos at the Forward does an excellent analysis of the etymology of both hamantaschen and Oznei Haman. Apparently hamantaschen are a comparatively old tradition, dating at least to the middle ages, and in Yiddish the precise translation is "Haman’s pockets." No hats of any shape are mentioned at all.

Oznei Haman originated as a completely different kind of delicacy popular in the Sephardi community, made out of twisted strips of dough flavored with citrus rind and deep-fried in oil. Oznei Haman seem to go back at least as far as the Spanish Inquisition, and actually have some textual basis. There’s a Midrash that says Haman’s ears were twisted as part of his punishment, so eating a commemorative pastry makes a certain—though small—degree of symbollic sense. It’s not clear when Oznei Haman became synonymous with Hamantaschen, but probably within the last century.

Last year I posted my hamantaschen recipe and noted that the Swedes have a suspiciously similar cookie, called Napoleon’s Hats or Napoleonhattar, which are traditionally filled with almonds. That actually makes a certain degree of sense: Tri-cornered hats were popular in Napoleon’s time.

The Seforim Blog has an incredibly comprehensive and amusing list of sources that discuss hamantaschen, going as far back as the 13th century. It also summarizes a number of rabbinical explanations for why we eat hamantaschen, including that hamantaschen is a pun on Haman tash—Hebrew for Haman was weakened, and that we eat the pastries because the filling is hidden inside in the same way that the miracle of the Purim story was hidden.

A former High School debate champ turned Rabbi debates the importance of hamentaschen vs. latkes. I'd contend that his most powerful argument against latkes, "they cause pimples" is enough to prevent most adolescents from engaging in extraneous gnoshing.

If only his points against eating hamantaschen were as strong...

If you haven’t had the chance to attend the original Latke Hamantaschen Debate at the University of Chicago, well, that’s sad for you, because it’s brilliant. But if you’ve missed any of the last seventy years’ debates you can still buy the book, which is pretty sweet.

I bring this up because I made hamantaschen last night, and I feel strongly that my particular recipe is Divinely inspired. Hamantaschen and hummus are pretty much the reason I believe in God.

But just for the sake of argument let’s assume your hamantaschen are the dry crumbly kind and are void of all inspiration. Are you going to write them off entirely as just one of those dumb things Jews make because we like an excuse to make sweets?
Hamantaschen Baking at the Foxhole: Poppyseed, the godfather of Purim treats
Well first of all, we probably didn’t come up with it on our own. There’s a Swedish Cookie that’s eerily similar, called Napoleon’s Hat. Were the cookies around before Napoleon? How far back do Hamantaschen go? I have no idea, and I just spent 45 minutes looking for an academic article about it on ProQuest to no avail.

But if you are looking for some spiritual backing for hamantaschen look no further than this article from Aish titled, “The Deeper Meaning of Hamentaschen.” The accompanying graphic is a hamentaschen in outer space. Deep space, one assumes. Heavy.

I don’t have any particularly exciting graphics, but I do have a Jewish food theory. First of all, food is holy in any form. I mean, we have to say blessings and everything, so we know that we have to have a certain respect for what we eat. And on Purim in particular we’re supposed to give each other little packages of food and then come together for a big feast. Food is a reasonable way for us to share and come together. And yeah, we’ve got some wacky ideas about how our cookies are related to the holiday, but ultimately just making food and sitting down together…Well, that ends up being pretty spiritual.

Unless you have those dry crumbly hamantaschen, in which case you probably hate God. So in the name of Kiddush Hashem (making God look good) here’s my recipe:
1 cup OJ
1 cup margarine
1 1/2 cup sugar
2 egg yolks
1/2 t vanilla
1/2 t lemon extract
6 c flower
2 t baking soda

Combine butter and sugar, add egg yolks, OJ, vanilla and lemon. Mix and add dry ingredients. Roll out dough and using biscuit cutters or the edge of a can make circles of dough. In each circle spoon a half teaspoon or so of your topping of choice. Traditionally there are poppy seed, strawberry, raspberry, apricot, and occasionally chocolate. (I believe prune hamantaschen are the work of the devil, but suit yourself). Pinch the corners in three places so that you have a triangle shaped cookie with walls that hold in the filling. Bake on greased cookie sheets at 350 for 15 minutes.

Put your feet up, and eat the fruits of your labor while watching The Chosen and drinking a Sepharadi. Congratulate yourself for being so Jewish.