Believe it or Not

It is near impossible to be morose when you sit down with a stack of cookbooks, unless of course — you are just naturally, genetically morose and you hold tightly onto your moroseness even if you just won the Publisher’s Clearing House sweepstakes.

Just so you know, the odds of winning the $10 million dollar prize is one in 1,750,000,000 billion. Morose is shutting the door to the prize patrol clustered on the porch with balloons, champagne, flowers and a big check saying,  “Go away, you’ve got the wrong house.”

Back in the kitchen, Morose picks up a cookbook to look for a potato recipe. “These are the best garlic mashed potatoes you will ever make, your guests from here on will ask for them by name.” Morose is not to be moved and slams the book shut.

The second suggests roast potatoes, “These are as crisp and brown as if they were deep-fried and their flavor is ambrosial.” She grabs a third book without blinking an eye. “Sautéed tiny new potatoes make this simple dish superlative.”

Bam. Slam. Flip.

“Potatoes have great affinities with butter, cream in any form, cheese, chives, dill, onions, parsley, chervil, rosemary, sage, oregano, bacon and mushrooms.” Morose mutters to herself as she moves to the oven, pops in a few spuds and with painstaking precision sets the timer.

And that is, I swear to God, the origin of the potato bar.

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