Mashed Potatoes

I've been staring at a 10 pound bag of potatoes I bought in anticipation of making mashed potatoes for a church feast for the youth.  I volunteered because I wanted to help, without giving much thought to my lack of experience.  I'm well versed with boxed mashed potatoes, after a few mess-ups in my 20s and a tablespoon of salt instead of a teaspoon, but having just received a potato masher from my in-laws last Christmas (I think they were trying to imply something...), it seemed like now was the time. 

I'm still intimidated, and feel almost a little silly admitting that my entire life's experience with mashed potatoes has consisted of box or microwaveable pouches or the drive-thru at KFC (true story, our family had a traditional "American" Thanksgiving one year completed by our lovely friend, the Colonel (and his minions).

The box and pouches aren't bad, nothing some fresh garlic, salt, and pepper, and tons of butter can't remedy.  But the idea of dipping my toes into the American traditions of homemade mashed potatoes also excite me a bit.  True, I still am determined to cook Chinese sticky sausage rice despite the expensive price of sticky rice and sausage in the local Salt Lake Chinese supermarkets, but that is the Thanksgiving I'm accustomed to.  That was our "stuffing" that paired so nicely with the turkey, the only American dish our dinner extravaganza would include, so it's been a welcome tradition that I've cooked, if only for myself.

Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that remind me of the disconnect my Chinese immigrant child experience had, probably the only more patriotic holiday would be Fourth of July itself.  I remember coming home with my meticulously glued tissue paper stuffed paper turkey, only to have my mom reject it.  I remember learning about the pilgrims and the Indians, but thinking it was just a fairytale, because nobody had cranberry sauce with their turkey... right?  Corn?  Pumpkin pie?  Those were only things I had seen on television, and not representative of the celebration we had at home.  We had sticky sausage rice instead of stuffing, Chinese sponge cake with fruit and heavy whipping cream instead of pumpkin pie or any sort of cake with frosting, we had stir fried greens instead of corn or mashed potatoes, and mushrooms and abalone instead of sweet potatoes.  I remember how in awe I was that my best friend made pumpkin pie from scratch every year, especially since she was Korean American.  Her mom also was known for the best lasagna ever, something we only knew existed in the frozen section of Costco, and a dish my mom requested a recipe for, only to make it with normal noodles that she thought would eventually flatten out (we now know that you buy the flat sheets that make lasagna layers... ).

I find it exciting to shop for Thanksgiving decor.  I find joy in cornucopias and turkeys, symbols of a holiday I only knew through commercials and American sitcoms.  I can't wait to devour myself with an assortment of pies, potatoes, that disgusting dish of random bread crumbs (stuffing), and enjoy Thanksgiving with my family.  I will say the best part about never taking Thanksgiving seriously within our Chinese family growing up was the celebrations I got to partake of in my 20s.  I spent Thanksgiving with so many friends who were unable to return home for the special holiday, experienced numerous box mashed potatoes, turduckens, and sad attempts to recreate those traditional dishes my friends all missed by not going home.  Little did they know that their shortcomings were my gains, and first time experiences having an "American" Thanksgiving.

Well, I guess I better start on those mashed potatoes.  Practice for the real deal?