Memory of the frozen remains is square punishment and as I am of the pedantic sort, it is finger wagging reminder to sit quietly in the lap of abundance and allow the fullness of the moment to reveal itself rather than mine away at time until there is nothing left to hold. Wearing my full mantle of shame, I am now contrite and figure some lavish penance is needed to rectify the wrong.
The outline is clear: focused simplicity, meditative and slow, banning any impulse to cut corners. The herbs once again are plentiful but not deserving of any pre-emptive strikes this time around. After all they are ancient paean to both bounty and beauty revered by Gods and mortals alike. They are frisky agents of flavor and blooming bouquet to the senses needing ballast that can only be found in the humble potato of behind-the-scenes kitchen duty.
The potato, earthy fellow needs no introduction to any. Starchy and full figured it is the quintessential food to sate the most basic hunger. But I confess my own has existed on the opposite end of the spectrum where wants are located. They have the luxury of being both transient and susceptible to the winds of suggestion. Therefore subterranean tubers are rarely on my radar except when drunk on oil when the food transforms from the staunch practical to the magnificently fabulous.
This fittingly brings us to technique. While it is a no brainer, this is a method I’ve avoided for the quantity of oil used and for the unhurried nature of the process. In short it is perfect for my reparations. I’ve decided that the cure to continuous scuttling about and throwing down sloppy ingredients in perpetual fear of the dwindling sands of time is to good naturedly slow sear potatoes to crisp crust perfection. No fussy ingredients or fancy procedure needed. Everything else is certain distraction.
I’ve been hearing folks recently refute the reasonability of “multi-tasking”. I used to actually pride myself on this skill before noticing its inherent deficiencies. Reformed I’m throwing away all Magic Bullets, beans, and pills for something true like zaftig frenchified peasant food eaten alongside sautéed baby radish greens. A simple still life with a few ingredients steeped in old fashioned values has me slowed down to a more opulent way of being. Live well, banish the fear of oil, and eat more potatoes!