Sunday 1 January 2012

MASHED POTATOES INFUSED WITH ROSEMARY AND GARLIC




Mashed potatoes are a form of comfort served in a bowl.  A soft, mushy, milky mash, steaming hot, with a sweet aroma that calls you to sit at the dinner table, satisfy your hunger, and send away your workaday cares. Mashed Potatoes! Yes! 



Yesterday's dinner was made up of steak and mashed potatoes. Prior to cooking, the steak had marinated for two hours in a sweetened concoction which gave it a somewhat crunchy exterior and also added an unbelievably tender, tasty texture. A nice honey undertone to it also. I am disappointed that I don't have the recipe for the marinade; it belongs to the friend who cooked the steak, and apparently, it's guarded like the crown jewels in the Tower of London. But trust me, that recipe will be posted on this blog one day, just wait and see. Anyway, after the dishes were done, we headed out for a night of New Year's Eve debauchery. In all honesty, I can't remember where I was when 2012 "was born," but I am guessing, and probably correctly, that indeed it was born. This afternoon I staggered to the front door and picked up the newspaper, all the while nursing a prodigiously colossal hangover. I tried to focus my right eye on the paper. That was the eye I was managing keep open. I could tell that my left eye was tightly shut and also that it had somehow gotten bandaged. I couldn't remember who bandaged it but suffice it to say that whoever it was must attend a semester's worth of refresher clinicals in the art of wound care. So as I said, I focused my right eye on the front page of the paper. The date was emblazoned in large black letters: "Happy New Year, January 1, 2013!" Oh no, 2013?!?!!?  2013?  Where had 2012 gone?

The last thing I remembered was eating rosemary, nutmeg and garlic infused mashed potatoes on New Year's Eve 2011. Then what happened? How much partying had I done? Was this a parallel universe? What happened to 2012? What happened to the whole of 2012? What was the problem with my left eye? Who was the president? Obama? Hillary? Ron Paul? I caught another headline: "The US to switch back to the gold standard." I guessed that Ron Paul had been elected. Darn, I would have much preferred Santorum over Ron Paul (Santorum? Just kidding)! I let the newspaper fall to the floor, and I tottered back to bed. 

"Don't have answers," I murmured to myself as I crawled underneath my blanket. "Just let me get some more sleep and perhaps when I next awaken things will make more sense, although I doubt it." 

Sigh! By mid-year, my memory had for the most part returned. I believe it was the nutmeg that was to blame. I most likely used too much nutmeg in the mashed potatoes. And as it turns out, my left eye wasn't bandaged. That was the ... it was my ... I have no idea how my bra got twisted and got tangled over my left eye! The steak I mentioned? Wait till you hear this one! Are you ready? It wasn't meat. Turns out we attacked a tray of nutmeg brownies. 

And as it also turns out, I had never even left the house. I mean, who goes out on New Year's Eve these days? I stayed home and finished reading a wonderful "who done it," called "Death Comes to Pemberly." Loved it, loved it. Jane Austen's characters from "Pride and Prejudice" occupy the pages of this novel by P.D. James, and Mr Wickham is still up to no good. I highly recommend this book. I was so engrossed in reading it that I was careless with the amount of nutmeg I let drop into the milk for the mashed potatoes. Nutmeg in large quantities can be dangerous; it has hallucinogenic properties. Look it up!

Well, I should inform you that I am no longer friends with the person who gave me that sack of nutmeg as a Christmas present. 

"But it was hazelnut flour I bought for you," this woman said to me when I telephoned her to complain. "I know how much you like it." True, I love anything hazelnuts, however, the sack she gave me contained nutmeg balls which I ground up and put to what I believed was good culinary use. 

"You're so hard to shop for," she continued. 
"Why didn't you just buy me a case of Diet Pepsi," I retorted.  "Or better yet, why didn't you just get me nothing which is exactly what I got you for Christmas: nothing!"  
"Not for years, not even a card," she said sarcastically. 
I hung up. 




Bellow, I give you the recipe for the mash, minus the nutmeg. In all seriousness, the rosemary and garlic infusion turns the potatoes from an ordinary side dish into a rather special concoction.  


Recipe:
  • Get some potatoes that are appropriate for mashing. 
  • Peel them, cut them up and boil them until they are soft. Right away, drain them. 
  • Meanwhile, into a saucepan, add the milk to be used for mashing the potatoes. Throw in a really large sprig of rosemary plus 4 cloves of peeled smashed garlic. Bring to a boil. 
  • When the milk boils, but before it spills all over the stovetop, remove it from the heat. Let the rosemary and garlic steep in the milk. Let them steep long enough so that the milk is infused with the flavours of rosemary and garlic. 
  • Back to the spuds: when you have drained the potatoes, strain the milk onto them, add some salt and pepper and some olive oil and butter. Now, get to mashing! 
  • Place the potatoes in a serving bowl and sprinkle some Parmesan cheese over them. Bring them to the table and pass them around. 
  • Tip: keep away from the nutmeg. In fact, don't even keep a supply of it in your house, or apartment, or castle, or where ever it is you happen to live. Really? You live in a castle? How much is your heating bill?  Do you have a moat? Send pictures, please.



 Happy 2012 from me, Ana!