This was to be the next stage of his unfulfilled quest to recreate the perfect Grandma Potato.
There had already been one attempt this holiday season. There are usually four to five attempts throughout the year. It’s his quest. Like the Holy Grail or multiple orgasms for men.
It seems his Grandmother used to make these roasted potatoes that would induce a foodgasm of flavor when they all got together for holiday dinners. The menu consisted of roast beef, green beans, gravy and the ultimate golden tender roasted potato. These potatoes are legendary. At every family gathering that involves sitting down with food, the conversation inevitably turns to the collective memory of how wonderful these potatoes were. Here’s where I could insert some comment about the Irish and potatoes but that would be rude and I’m not that clever so I’ll just say that it's usually fun chatting about the nostalgic memories of foods from our childhood. I have some food memories of my Grandmother’s cooking as well, but they tend to travel along the lines of the two weeks I spent in the hospital with Salmonella food poisoning from something my Grandmother fed me and the fact that she used to store bacon grease in an old coffee can that she stashed in the refrigerator for months and months and used liberally in everything she cooked. It’s no wonder my cholesterol level is high.
My husband has been trying to make these Grandma Potatoes since we moved in together and cooked our first roast beef. As yet, we have been unable to achieve the tender golden succulence of the Grandma Potato. But he is determined and we try and try.
During Christmas Eve dinner with his parents, the feasts of yore that included these tender tubers was lamented and someone brought up the type of roasting pan she might have used and whether this piece of the puzzle was instrumental to the outcome. My Father-in-Law, uber-pack rat that he is, bless his frugal Irish soul, mentioned that he thought his mother’s old roaster was in the basement. Of course it was. Within a few minutes my husband came up the stairs victoriously cradling this big ass speckled enameled roasting pan. This thing is huge. I swear it would roast a whole pig. With room for a side of lamb. Wanna know where it is now?
With loving devotion to the taste memory, my guy arranged a giant slab of cow and the potatoes carefully in the ginormous roaster and set it to cook. Several hours later the yummy artery clogging hunk of beef emerged with caramel colored roasted potatoes nestled alongside. They looked like Grandma Potatoes. They smelled like Grandma Potatoes. But did they taste like Grandma Potatoes?
Alas, they did not.
Fast forward one week. Another hunk o’Cow and 4 bags of potatoes.
My guy figured that if he cooked several different types all at once maybe he’d find the right combination of potato and beef and he would reproduce the Grandma Potato, finally after so many years trying.
Once again, close but not quite.
I don’t know the secret to the Grandma Potato. Truly, she seems to have taken the secret with her when she passed as my Mother-in-Law doesn’t know it, nor does her husband. So, Internets, if any of you know the secret to producing the perfect roasted potato that emerges from the pan golden and slightly crispy on the outside, yet soft and tender on the inside, with that perfect Grandma Potato flavor, please pass it on. Please? I’m afraid the next step will involve trying to track down the stove that was used to cook them.
1 comment:
There's got to be an answer, here...So sweet/funny to think of your Grandma's legacy in the memory of these potatoes that won't leave your husband alone. I hope there's at least one recipe I make that plagues my boys in the same way after I'm gone...There's a sense of being irreplaceable there :)
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