les pommes de terre et la politesse
by jemma margaret
Though my father does not approve of me saying so, potatoes are not my cup of tea.
You see, unlike the FDA, I do not consider potatoes as vegetables. To me, they are more of a starch. And my list of preferred starches only reaches potatoes towards the very very end. In fact, probably, last of all.
I blame Scotland, where each meal contained potatoes (and sometimes more than one style–you know, in case you want chips inside your jacket potato on a bed of mash.)
That said, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with potato chips is a comforting meal indeed.
Over compared notes this evening, my mother and I realized that while she almost always gets a vegetable side dish at Parisian restaurants, I almost always do not (with the exceptions of (A) ordering a salad as my main dish or (B) being in the presence of my mother’s vegetable magnetism). A plate of white or cream colored fish is not upset by the introduction of green to the plate, but is instead complimented by rice, potatoes, or a bread basket.
That said, I am not a bad guest and will cheerfully finish what is put in front of me without complaint. Secretly, I might even enjoy the excuse to pig out (pigs are very fond of tubers), but you’ll have to ask Freud about that.