As people age the more they become aware of human suffering. Some choose to delve deeper to understand what it means to be human. Men like Socrates, Aristotle and Bill Nye devote their lives to asking questions and finding answers.
What do I do? Well, I think about the most important thing of all. Potatoes.
Potatoes are the end-all, be-all of versatile foods. Everyone hates those nights spent laying in bed contemplating the most embarrassing moments they’ve experienced, unable to let go and accept the mind-numbing grip of sleep. Grab a potato, cheese grater and a frying pan. Boom — instant hash browns. Who doesn’t love that? Soulless potato hating crazies, that’s who.
To prevent myself from slipping into a deep depression due to the crushing weight of my insignificance, I decided to study the etymology of the word “potato.”
I bet many people, including myself, accredited the proliferation of the potato to the Irish. That is indeed false. The first potatoes were actually grown in South America, specifically by the Incans. The English first encountered what we today call the sweet potato, but to them it was known only as the potato. It wasn’t until many years later that the English encountered the world’s beloved tuber.
In reality, there are many problems in this world. Retreating to a potato wonderland sometimes isn’t an option. On the other hand, how great are mashed potatoes? I, for one, love them made with Yukon Gold potatoes. The slight sweetness adds such depth of flavor combined with the salt of Lawry’s Seasoning. The tang of the sour cream is like a cold bucket of water to the palette — cleansing the taste buds, allowing for even more potato goodness.
Food is an escape for many. It is where they go to forget about their troubles. Whether it is potatoes, ice cream, potatoes, pizza or potatoes, it does not matter. What matters is that they don’t have to struggle with problems that they don’t have answers to. I am one of those people. Maybe not with food so much as with writing stories about potatoes. It is important to ask questions like, “is a hotdog a sandwich?” or “why don’t we pronounce bagels the same way we pronounce bag?” These existential questions that make us rethink how we see the world are my escape — the little dollop of sour cream on the baked potato that is life.
Pointless questions like these are exactly that: pointless. However, they provide a breath of fresh air. The world is full of tragedies — whether manmade or by Mother Nature, they are all terrible. All of them, big or small, create a huge weight that may seem impossible to bear. Taking a moment to seriously consider whether potatoes are as amazing as I have made them out to be takes that weight off. That, to me, is invaluable. Having arguments over the nature of hot dogs far exceeds debates about presidents or wars.
I’d like to conclude with my favorite potato recipe — a call back to a simpler time filled with sippy cups and naptime. I’d like to share the classic mashed potatoes with a little twist. Start with boiled Yukon Gold potatoes (it’s very important that they be Yukon Gold as those are the unequivocal best tater). Next add cream cheese, whole milk and butter to a bowl and mix. Add that to the potatoes, throw in some seasoning salt, a little paprika and boom — amazing mashed potatoes. They are the ultimate comfort food distraction.
Next time life’s hardships are too much to bear, just remember all the silly, pointless questions and maybe that weight will feel a little bit lighter.
Griffen Winget can be reached at [email protected] or on Twitter @GriffenW