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I’ve been food obsessed lately. Eating, yes, but just having everything I could possibly want within reach. I love having a fridge or freezer full of dinner choices. Walt always preferred to make a daily run to the store for fresh. We butted heads over this for years. When I was cooking, I won and vice versa. But having my own grocery store in my own house makes me happy.
Then there’s the thing where my eye doctor has me on medication that has my appetite in overdrive. Add that to the fact that I’m scrambling around like a madwoman up in here with construction and writing and grieving and running the household… Yeah, I’m doing a lot of eating my feelings.
When I was a kid, my mom would put in a pot roast with carrots and potatoes every Sunday morning before church. We’d get home and the house would smell amazing. On Saturdays, she’d often cook hamburgers, and with the hamburgers we’d have Ranch Style beans which to this day I love. My dad would dish his up on top of crushed potato chips, something I’ve been doing of late though my chips are a jalapeno queso flavor and I add a hefty serving of Rotel dip on top. Sometimes I’ll eat a bowl of chips, beans, and queso for dinner and call it a night. And no I don’t want to think about the salt content. It’s the meds at work. And the need for comfort food.
I’ve been thinking, too, about French fries. Those from local fast food joints: McDonald’s, Burger King, Sonic, Jack in the Box… who has fresh cut, curly, bacon & cheese covered wedges. I’ve been thinking about those from diners that are crinkle cut and drip grease and crunch in your mouth. About meaty steak fries with a coating of flavor and cornstarch. I’ve also been thinking about potato skins and loaded baked potatoes. One of my favorite dinners is a big fat baked potato covered with butter, sour cream, shredded cheese, black olives, red onion, chopped jalapenos, and chili. I love all of these. Fast food. Gourmet. It just depends on what I’m in the mood for. Also gravy or ketchup or ranch dressing. Tots, even. Hash browns.
I’ve been thinking about potatoes because of several recent discussions I’ve read in writing groups about books, the quality vs quantity issue related to the author’s writing speed/production schedule… the fast food vs the gourmet when it comes to entertainment preferences. And these arguments or discussions or whatever just make me smile because of potatoes.
Is there really a bad potato to be had? Even boiled red ones with salt, pepper, and butter can be amazing if that’s what I’m in the mood for. It doesn’t matter how long the potatoes have taken to cook or how much work went into peeling, shredding, browning, etc., any more than it matters how long the book took to write. Not if it fits what I want at that particular time. I may want to sink into a big beautifully wordsmithed literary tome one day and rush through a nonstop thriller the next or make my way through a romance so thick with tension my heart pounds madly.
Potato. PotAHto. Just GET IN MAH BELLY!!