Mashed Potatoes

Do not let golden skin fool you.
Those potatoes make crispy hash browns.
And they steam like a dream.
But what happens when you go to mash the shiny bastards?
They turn to glue.
When I was a kid we did not have hybrids in the produce section.
We spit our watermelon seeds into the grass.
Our sweet corn was just one shade of yellow.
And our potatoes came inside a brown net of a bag.
If you were to bake your potatoes they had to be scrubbed clean first.
Before they could be mashed they had to be peeled.
And you could give them the old Elvis curl when you removed your beaters.
But now.

Now, when you walk through the produce section there are different kinds of potatoes to choose from.
It is real easy to be seduced by the pretty ones.
Especially if you are a potato lover.
Like me.
So yeah.
I am not without a flaw.
I fall for the cute little red potatoes sometimes just like everyone else.
I have been known to toss a bag of those pretty golden ones into my cart.
And it's true.
I occasionally whip up a batch of mashed potatoes with those fancy things.
And they always turn into goop.
Every time.
Of course I still eat them.
There is nothing a little butter, salt and pepper can't fix, but.
"What's that Louisa?"
My sister is talking to me.
"It is none of your business why I am making mashed potatoes in the summer."
Some people don't eat mashed potatoes in July.
They say it is too hot.
That is just silly.
This country might be suffering from a few loose screws, but you can still eat mashed potatoes whenever you want.
Of course there are summer rules that must be adhered to.
Like, no gravy.
Gravy is for the winter.
Summertime is when we Wisconsinites eat our lighter meals.
Summertime is when butter and sour cream rule.
Except of course for that one exception.
Like, if you happen to find yourself in the drive through line at a KFC, you must order the mashed potatoes.
And their gravy is mandatory.
But that is not something I needed to tell you.
Once fall rolls around, God forbid, be on your toes. They are going to try to fool you into buying those bright colored and interesting squashes that they are going to pile up next to the potatoes.
My sweet Sven always falls for them.
Squash isn't bad.
I got nothing against eating seasonally.
You never see anybody with a heap of squash guts and a pile of potatoes together on one plate.
What I want to know is who makes these rules?
Is it the same committee that decided dandelions were weeds?
Now, if you will excuse me.
I just pulled up to the store.
It is time for me to say my Piggly Wiggly parking lot prayer.
Lord, please help me find the strength to bypass those bags of cute little redskins in aisle one and force my hand over to pick up ten pounds of some good old fashioned, thick-skinned, dirty, potatoes, with bumps.
Because if I make one more goopy helping of muck.
I am going to lose my shit.

All that glitters is not gold.

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