December 10th 2018
Today I ate mashed potato (intentionally) for the first time in, at a guess, ten years. Perhaps “intentionally” is a poor word choice, because it’s not like I could have tripped and fallen onto a pile of mashed potato accidentally. More accurate would be “purposefully”, because I have eaten mashed potato in that time. But only on two occasions that I can think of: 1) at my graduation ball at the end of University where I either ate the mashed potato that came alongside my measly chicken breast, or I ate nothing at all, and 2) at a work Christmas party where I either ate the mashed potato that came alongside my measly chicken breast, or I ate nothing at all.
Sense the theme?
Today, though, I made the choice to have mashed potato alongside the meat on my plate. Usually, when Mum cooks something that she intends to serve with mashed potato for her and Dad, she’ll just take a few boiled potatoes out of the pot before she mashes it, and serve them to me. I really don’t like mashed potato. Or, at least, I didn’t used to.
Today, inexplicably, when I got home from work and Mum was cooking dinner, I told her that I’d try some mashed potato with the pork tenderloin. For the record, look at how absolutely stunning this pork tenderloin looks:
Mum said she planned on putting cheese in the mashed potato, and I’ve always subscribed to the almost-religious belief that there is no food that is not improved by adding cheese to it (be that stuffed, wrapped, or draped) so I figured there would never be a better time to try to challenge my pre-existing agenda.
And so, here it is:
I mean, to be fair, how could you look at anything on that plate and not want to just instantly devour it?
I hope I didn’t offend Mum when I described the mashed potato as “perfectly edible”, because it was meant as the highest form of praise. I’ve harboured this hatred for years, and to go from that to “perfectly edible” is, in my opinion, a huge win.
I was correct in my assertion that there is not a dish in the world that is not improved by adding cheese. In fact, I think it was mainly the cheese that push the mash into the realms of acceptable. She also put leeks in it (I am also staunchly against the concept of leeks) and even those were made better by the cheese. The cheese added new texture and flavour to the mash, and those are the two things I disliked about mash in the first place: the weird texture, and the lack of flavour.
Now, I’m not going to start asking Mum to do mash instead of roast potatoes, but I’ll be okay with it if she wants to serve it alongside a pork tenderloin as ridiculously nice as the one she did today.
Until tomorrow, as long as there’s cheese in it, that is.