where the writers are
Christmas Potatoes

I'm a first-generation Italian-American. That slash says it all. It means that though I was born in the United States, my blood corpuscles are suffused with foreign tendencies for which science has yet to find an antidote. One of those predilections is this: if I invite guests to my home for dinner, I'll drop dead of mortification, right at the table, if I discover that somehow I didn't make "enough."

The problem is my view and my husband's view of "enough" is quite different. My husband's family came over to the U.S. probably on the next boat after The Mayflower. My theory is that on that trip those aboard somehow forgot how to cook, and even worse, how to measure portions. That's why when I met my husband, he looked malnourished, and after eleven years together, I've only managed to put ten pounds on him. On that alone I rest my argument that "real" Americans don't know how to eat the way we "Something-slash Americans" do. You see why I didn't believe him when he told me we had enough mashed potatoes for Christmas dinner last year.

Read the rest at KitchenDaily.

Thanks as always to Red Room's Gina Misiroglu for putting me in touch with the KitchenDaily/AOL people. It's just one of the ways she's helping Red Room authors promote their work.

2 Comment count
Comment Bubble Tip

Oh, that's perfect...

... and the universal question of enough. I still sometimes make enough for eight people even though the kids are all gone.

I loved the irony - thanks, Patricia!


Comment Bubble Tip


Thanks,Barb, for posting a comment. I hear you about the kids.I don't even know why I shop at Costco anymore. Why do two people need a package of 200 chicken thighs?

By the way, I tried to respond to this much earlier, but for some reason I'm having lot's of trouble logging into Redroom these days. Have you experienced that?