There is something about a big bowl of mashed potatoes with a puddle of butter or gravy in the middle. Add a dash of hot sauce to the bowl, and for me that is pure heaven.
I may not be able to cook much, but I always keep on hand envelopes or packages of mashed potatoes, a little bit of milk, butter and hot sauce. Whenever I go somewhere to eat, and mashed potatoes are an option – I inspect them and then will choose them for my side dish.
One time, I moved into a new apartment, and a friend gave me a basket of Starbucks’ coffee (decaf, medium roast) and loads of mashed potatoes and hot sauce. It was the perfect gift for me. Mashed potatoes is more than a comfort food.
When I tasted a good spoon of mashed potatoes my mouth is flooded with an array of tastes from the joyous to the most melancholy to the angry to the sympathetic. I am reminded of dinners on Sundays after church when Mom would cook, and we would all sit down together. I am reminded of Christmas and other holidays at Grandma Madison’s and Grandma Holland’s where there was not only mashed potatoes always, but sweet potatoes and baked potatoes. I am reminded of my first date to the Western Sizzler where we ordered steak, mashed potatoes and green beans, and laughed alot. That was with a guy who ended up being my best friend. I remember midnight calls from my next door neighbor at UWA when she just wanted to talk and all I had in the cabinet were mashed potatoes. I remember family. I remember love. I remember feeling like all was right in the world. I remember the first week after I got Toby, and there was nothing in the house really too cook, and no money for dog food. He loved him some mashed potatoes. My puppy was happy. I was happy.
Mashed Potatoes are more than just a comfort food for me – they are THE FOOD of CHOICE.
And that writing prompt was actually fun. Yes, there are mashed potatoes cooking in the microwave as we speak.