Sunday, March 15, 2009

I just remembered...

Fun Potatoes

I was a grown woman with children before it occurred to me that my mother made up the name of this "recipe."

Recipe for Fun Potatoes:
Peel potatoes
Boil potatoes
Put potatoes on plate
Tell your kids a big fat lie about how much fun these potatoes are.

Once the potato is on your plate, the "fun" begins. You cut the potatoes into bite-sized pieces and salt them. You get a pat of butter. From that pat, you take a tiny amount to be eaten with the bite of potato. Isn't that fun!

Da Bros. and I all agreed! Fun Potatoes were fun! Mommy would say in a chirpy voice, "We're having Fun Potatoes, Kids!" and we'd all cheer "Oh goody, Mommy! It's Fun Potatoes!"

For years I kept this nasty little secret that not only did Fun Potatoes annoy me because you could never really get the butter/potato ratio right and even when you did, they never quite mixed properly in your mouth; not only that, but I strongly suspected Fun Potatoes were really Mom's Too Tired To Mash Potatoes. And for some reason, Fun Potatoes only showed up as a side dish to two meals: liver and onions and once a year on St. Patrick's Day with the corned beef and cabbage.

I held my tongue for years, unwilling to spoil this precious memory for Da Bros.

Then one year around March 17, we were reminiscing about my mother's St. Patrick's Day celebrations, usually involving some sort of green dessert (the best was a pistachio cake with cream cheese icing; the worst was lime Jello with goo on top).

So, there we were, reliving fond memories when someone -- I'm pretty sure it wasn't me -- said:

"fun potatoes" just the tone of voice you would use to, say, announce you have a cold sore or a festering boil that makes it hard to sit properly.

And so I fessed up: "Guys, I gotta tell you; I really hated Fun Potatoes"

"Me too!" John Boy effused. "I was afraid to tell anyone. Everyone seemed to be so excited to be eating them."

"I hated Fun Potatoes," Dark Garden growled, knocking back his beer. That's what Fun Potatoes do to you, even after 35 years.

It may take me a few more years to share with them that I think the entire concept of Fun Potatoes was born of laziness on my mother's part. I don't want to traumatize anyone too quickly.

You know how boys are about their mother's memory.


Gwynne said...

At least your mom had a name for this "recipe." ;-) What's remarkable is that you all played along so nicely. My brother and I would have whined and moaned about it, even though Mom was doing the best she could on her meager salary, sometimes serving "fun" potatoes alongside roadkill (she worked near the Animal Control office and officers would bring her "food" to put on the table). 8-}

Darkgarden said...

I recall fun potatoes... I have discussed the matter w. Johnboy. Johnboy agrees in his dislike of fun potatoes. I, however, did not recall the concept until discussing same with Johnboy. I, erroniously, believed fun potatoes to be a type of roasted sput with pleasing spices. I realize now that I am wrong. A flashback followed... Steaming pieces of white, bare, barrent potato... sitting there... fucking awfully barrent... with this scant slice of miniscule butter, melting slightly... all .... barren...

I now recall Fun Potatoes...


There was no fun...

There was


Sisiggy said...

Gwynne: Can't eat the roadkill in New Jersey. Though one time my aunt arrived and there was a pheasant stuck to her bumper and my grandmother cooked it up. I don't know who ate it, I just know she cooked it...

DG: Yes, they were steaming. And you were only permitted ONE pat of butter and it always ran out.