When Mashed Potatoes Are the Gateway to Bigger Family Talks
I’m not the first voice to plead that we never go back to normal
Whether smooth as silk and ribboned with butter, a lumpy volcano erupting with brown gravy, or a glorious mess of skins, garlic, and parsley, you’d think mashed potatoes were the side-dish equivalent of a peace treaty.
Though recipes and cooking methods and what makes for the “best” version may vary, surely everybody can put their differences aside and unite behind the satisfying end result.
Yet it was mashed potatoes that seemed to be the catalyst for my complete meltdown. Mind you, it was the holiday season. I was sitting in the backseat of a Lyft, making my way through downtown San Francisco, texting with my siblings over the menu for our regular Christmas Eve dinner. We’ve been cooking this elaborate meal together since our late teens, and although the debate over what to prepare isn’t always fiery, I am usually the most outspoken voice of dissent when it is.
I had always supposed that it boiled down to meat and the fact that I don’t eat it. As a pescatarian, I tried pointing out that we could grill shrimp, sear scallops, or roast a whole salmon. My brother followed up with a garlicky linguine recipe that could accompany our protein of choice. I searched for…
