Mashed Potatoes

by Uvllia Ibarra

Every day, we come together and take turns peeling them one by one, never rushing the process. Sometimes, we use russet potatoes, but my favorites are the golden ones where peeling isn’t necessary.

He, of course, doesn’t care. He would take them gold, russet, fingerling, or petite. Or those little potatoes that are used in hors d'oeuvres. If it were permitted, we would spend the day making dish upon dish.

The sweet sound of chop chop chop to make sure each softens evenly and easily. Putting them to a soft boil. Once the bubbles start to rise, we fork each fragment to test the quality. Is it to taste? Do you need longer?

He is learning how I like my potatoes. I like real butter and never use measurements. I add heavy cream. Milk if it’s all we have, salt and black pepper. Of course, this is just the basics. Once the basics are perfected, then we can expand.

Instead of milk or heavy cream, I use a generous amount of crema and massage it with the butter. To add more flavor and color, I finely chop green onions and ensure each spoonful is evenly glittered. 

He loves my holiday potatoes. It’s when I whip out a new recipe. He loves my garlic potatoes or the ones I make with extra sharp cheddar. The gooier the better in his opinion. I make my gravy homemade, and I dress everything with Sherry.

The flavor is so intense it can only be enjoyed with small, even drizzles at a time and can be paired with everything. The biscuits, the ribs, the leg, and all the sides. And he never has just one plate.

Why should he?