When I was thinking about what I might make for supper today, I thought about making mashed potatoes. I thought that I would make mashed potatoes. I didn’t plan to make them, I just thought at one point that I might make them. I’ve always loved mashed potatoes, for as long as I can remember, and I like them best when I make them.
Once, when I was little, I’m not sure how long ago or how old I was, my mom served me mashed potatoes with my supper. When I was a kid, I used to eat one thing at a time (I can’t remember if there was a specific order, but the meat was always last.)… This particular time, I was eating my mashed potatoes, and as I neared the middle of the “mound,” I stuck in my fork, and liquid margarine poured out of a “secret pocket” inside the potatoes. I was exhilarated!... I know now, as an adult, that it was just a small amount of margarine, but at the time… it seemed like it gushed out (yeah… gushed is a good word… in fact, it’s perfect). I remember saying, “Mum! Mum! Look!” She just smiled and said, “It’s surprise potatoes.” Surprise potatoes! What a concept. It was only the single greatest thing ever! (Being a kid really has its advantages, doesn’t it?)
From that moment on, whenever my mom made mashed potatoes, I wondered whether I would get surprise potatoes. Sometimes, in my youth and enthusiasm, I would even ask, totally misunderstanding the meaning. Sometimes I got surprise potatoes, and it was always awesome (though not as much as the first time). Most times, I just got mashed potatoes. I think that until I got too old to think about or care about them, I was always just a tiny bit disappointed whenever I got all the way through my mashed potatoes without them gushing margarine.
Naturally, I made surprise potatoes for my girls. I can only guess as to how they felt about them, but I know that the first time I made them, I got a reaction much the same as what I remember mine to be, and I remember smiling (in fact, I’m smiling right now thinking about it) and saying, “Those are surprise potatoes.” And, like with my mother and me, I know I created that expectation in them. I know because sometimes, like I did, in their youth and enthusiasm totally misunderstanding the meaning, they would ask. When they did ask, I would usually respond by saying something like, “Now, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” Sometimes, they got surprise potatoes, but most times, they just got mashed potatoes. I hope that the euphoria of seeing that margarine gush out of their mashed potatoes made up for all the other tiny disappointments when it didn’t happen. I hope that someday, if it comes to pass that they have children of their own, that my grandchildren get to experience the exhilaration and euphoria that can come from something as simple as a tiny bit of margarine hidden in the middle of a mound of mashed potatoes.
A little over a year ago, as I often do, I made supper for my wife and one of my daughters. Usually, we just help ourselves to the food, so I wasn’t surprised when my then 17-year-old daughter eyed me suspiciously as I placed a full plate in front of her. I thought I saw the hint of a smile as I turned and headed back into the kitchen to get my supper. As I busied myself, I heard the sound of a fork on plate, followed by a very happy-sounding, “Yay!” In the kitchen, I smiled, just like I’m smiling now.
Once, when I was little, I’m not sure how long ago or how old I was, my mom served me mashed potatoes with my supper. When I was a kid, I used to eat one thing at a time (I can’t remember if there was a specific order, but the meat was always last.)… This particular time, I was eating my mashed potatoes, and as I neared the middle of the “mound,” I stuck in my fork, and liquid margarine poured out of a “secret pocket” inside the potatoes. I was exhilarated!... I know now, as an adult, that it was just a small amount of margarine, but at the time… it seemed like it gushed out (yeah… gushed is a good word… in fact, it’s perfect). I remember saying, “Mum! Mum! Look!” She just smiled and said, “It’s surprise potatoes.” Surprise potatoes! What a concept. It was only the single greatest thing ever! (Being a kid really has its advantages, doesn’t it?)
From that moment on, whenever my mom made mashed potatoes, I wondered whether I would get surprise potatoes. Sometimes, in my youth and enthusiasm, I would even ask, totally misunderstanding the meaning. Sometimes I got surprise potatoes, and it was always awesome (though not as much as the first time). Most times, I just got mashed potatoes. I think that until I got too old to think about or care about them, I was always just a tiny bit disappointed whenever I got all the way through my mashed potatoes without them gushing margarine.
Naturally, I made surprise potatoes for my girls. I can only guess as to how they felt about them, but I know that the first time I made them, I got a reaction much the same as what I remember mine to be, and I remember smiling (in fact, I’m smiling right now thinking about it) and saying, “Those are surprise potatoes.” And, like with my mother and me, I know I created that expectation in them. I know because sometimes, like I did, in their youth and enthusiasm totally misunderstanding the meaning, they would ask. When they did ask, I would usually respond by saying something like, “Now, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” Sometimes, they got surprise potatoes, but most times, they just got mashed potatoes. I hope that the euphoria of seeing that margarine gush out of their mashed potatoes made up for all the other tiny disappointments when it didn’t happen. I hope that someday, if it comes to pass that they have children of their own, that my grandchildren get to experience the exhilaration and euphoria that can come from something as simple as a tiny bit of margarine hidden in the middle of a mound of mashed potatoes.
A little over a year ago, as I often do, I made supper for my wife and one of my daughters. Usually, we just help ourselves to the food, so I wasn’t surprised when my then 17-year-old daughter eyed me suspiciously as I placed a full plate in front of her. I thought I saw the hint of a smile as I turned and headed back into the kitchen to get my supper. As I busied myself, I heard the sound of a fork on plate, followed by a very happy-sounding, “Yay!” In the kitchen, I smiled, just like I’m smiling now.
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