A St. Patty's Day Special: The Potato Diaries

A top of the afternoon to you readers! Happy St. Patrick's Day to you, one and all! I come from a long line of strong, Irish, women. So, I am going to do my Irish heritage proud, and whip up something Irish for you today: potatoes.

Potatoes are serious business not just in Ireland, but right here in my very own household.

My husband craves them. My son, whose Irish name is so Irish he may one day wake up with green skin and shamrock eyes, dreams about them. My daughter begs for them. And the "babies" see them (mashed, fried, or otherwise) and squeal with delight, "Tattos!" "French fries!" "Mine!"

Although all potatoes are coveted in our home, I have recently solved a long-standing mashed potato dilemma. I'd like to share my journey with you. The journey began when I met my husband and we fell in love.

When I met my husband, I quickly learned that he had one love that was even greater than his love for me: his love of mashed potatoes with butter.

While romancing me, he would take me to various restaurants. And while we were out holding hands, he was most ardent in his compliments of me. He would sit there eagerly awaiting the arrival of my smiles, the bread baskets, and....the waitress as she delivered him a steaming plate of piping hot mashed potatoes. Ah yes, he was very passionate in his pursuit both of me, and the potato. He would say no to the side of veggie, and yes to a double (YES DOUBLE) side of mashed potatoes.

So, me, who had in former relationships allowed the men to do the cooking, I dusted off my dishes and my cookware. I cleaned the cobwebs off the kitchen and started cutting potatoes. I cut many a potato for my man. With peels on, with them off. Adding milk, butter, sometimes garlic, sometimes without. In times of stress, I would buy flakes. As we added to our family and one by one the "babies" joined us, I bought the frozen potatoes. That way, I could steamed them in the convenient microwave bag and mash them in a jiffy.

But, sadly, there was something missing. The cheap flakes tasted - cheap. The homemade way, took too long. All that peeling, for a family of 6. And each person likes theirs slightly different. My son, likes his with more spice. My daughter with less spice. My husband with more butter. The "babies," they liked them plain. The list goes on.

Then, I realized something that I had forgotten in the pursuit of a good buy. That despite my need to save money during tough times in this recession, my family still held precious memories associated with their mashed potatoes. Memories that had no price tag.

My eldest son likes the mashed potatoes that his father, my ex-husband, feeds him when they go to eat at Bob Evans just the two of them. My daughter, remembers when she was little and living just her and her dad. She remembers how he would microwave the Country Crock mashed potatoes you buy pre-made. To my kids, and my husband, it is more than just the taste of the potatoes, it is the memories, the love, that adds to the flavor.

So, I made a pork roast last night. It cost $9.99. I bought two containers of mashed potatoes: Bob Evans ($3.59) and Country Crock ($3.79). The whole meal: about $18.00 or $3 per person. Plus, I had some rolls that I got free with a coupon I had (for buying some pot roast).

But the look on everyones' face at dinner last night: priceless. Everyone was happy with the mashed potatoes. I may not be able to make them exactly like Bob Evans or Country Crock, and maybe they cost a little more than homemade. However, we saved money eating at home. And I solved the mashed potato problem by giving them what they craved most: the potatoes their hearts had been craving.

What are you craving this St. Patty's Day?

Until we meet again. My recessionary tale will continue tomorrow.