Okay, so yesterday we talked about my infamous bragging-about-skiing episode. Our thoughts today will turn to a young bride (me) that had tried to impress someone with her cooking. It turns out, I cooked myself right into a red-faced corner back then! I must not have remembered the skiing escapade.
My husband and I, newlyweds for about three months, had my boss over for dinner one night after a busy day at work. My boss would be alone for dinner with his wife out of town, so I said, “Come over and eat with us; I can cook you my mom’s “famous” German potato salad!”
Not too many Swedes and Norwegians in Minnesota knew about the German style of potato salad, so I was confident I would present a good representation of my mom’s recipe. Her recipe I did follow, since I was a pretty good cook as long as I followed a recipe, and nothing must make me look like a liar tonight!
This will be simple, I told myself. How hard can it be? Well, now I wished I would’ve watched Mom create her triumph. It sure wasn’t a triumph for me!
The potatoes I cooked took forever to boil. And then when they were cooked, they had gotten too mushy to slice them into the recipe as called for.
The sauce had another story to tell. I was supposed to have cooked it from a little bacon grease and add spices and a little flour so that it would coat the potatoes. I should have demanded to know where these little sticky clumps of brown came from. Certainly this proficient cook didn’t have the burner on too high!?
Next question was, how could I combine one pile of mush (white) with the sauce clumps (brown)? I don’t think I did. I can’t remember what I served that night, but I know it had nothing to do with potatoes! 🙂
CLARIFICATION: The picture I posted this was the best one I found for German Potato Salad, but it doesn’t even come close to Mom’s. Hers was an off-white color and not brown; her onions were diced really fine along with green pepper, bacon, and a tiny bit of pimento, also diced fine. By the way, if you are wondering what it tastes like – it has a sweet-sour finish to it. I’ll give the recipe upon request if interested.
I believe the moral of both these stories, for me, was that I can let people notice my skills if the opportunity presents itself – I don’t have to notify people that I have them. Stop bragging, Debb! And YOU, dear readers – don’t let your pride make you fall like mine did. 🙂