Upside Down Thanksgiving Potatoes

We've all heard of or experienced that awful occurrence when a new cook discovered the plastic wrapped giblets are still in the now cooked turkey or the ten o'clock thanksgiving dinner because the cook wildly underestimated the time it takes to defrost a turkey. For me, I'm guilty of both and have even served an uncooked turkey at a company potluck. Lucky I haven't poisoned anyone yet, but I have harmed a car with my now famous mashed potatoes. 

Very young and newly married, I had the assignment of bringing a dish to a Friendsgiving. The group consisted of my husband's co-workers, Some were single, and others married. While I had met a few, I wasn't very close with anyone, and, being the new wife, I wanted to make a good impression. I had visions of creating a fantastic dish that people would ask for year after year. I settled on mashed potatoes with cream cheese and sour cream, figuring what could be better than cheesy "comfort food" mashed potatoes. 

Being newly married, I received a lovely arrangement of kitchen appliances. One, in particular, given to me by my grandmother, was a Cuisinart food processor. The manufacturer's instruction manual described it as a miracle appliance capable of making all sorts of dishes, so naturally, I picked it to assist me in making creamy mashed potatoes for a crowd. 

After I lugged an entire bag of russet potatoes into my kitchen, I began to prepare them for my soon-to-be unforgettable dish. First, working in batches, I cooked and then placed them in the food processor. Then I added to each batch a combination of cream cheese and sour cream. After which, I pushed the "on" button and watched the cooked potato cubes turn into a gooey dough-like consistency. My mental alarm bells weren't ringing yet because I thought the dish would come together once I baked it in the oven. I continued with each batch and poured everything into a 9x13 baking dish—also a wedding gift and placed the entire creation in my pre-heated oven. 

I returned after about an hour but noticed the consistency of my dish hadn't changed. So I decided to turn the oven light on to start close monitoring. After a while, my husband walked by and took a peek through the oven door. "When did you decide to make biscuits?" he asked. Which officially set my mental alarm bells off, and a minor panic set in. 

Unfortunately, my gooey potatoes, which had sat in the oven for over an hour, resembled a tray of uncooked biscuit dough. They were not browned or fluffy; they were just a sad, pale gray blob in a new 9x13 baking dish. 

Eventually, it was time to go, so I packed up my dish and took it to meet all of my husband's co-workers. Honestly, I hoped that people might see them as gourmet as I tried to hide them amongst the other dishes on the table. Then I stepped back and let the unavoidable happen. Most people walked right by, but those unfortunate fools who didn't somehow saw my potatoes as gravy and plopped them all over their turkey slices. I still think about what a shock that first bite must have been. 

My sweet husband was still recovering from the panic he caused with his biscuit question and was the last to go through the line. He noticed my barely touched dish. Wanting to spare my feelings and make up for sending me in a panic, he thought it best to make my potatoes disappear. He wanted me to think people enjoyed them. What he did next would remain a mystery to this day if it wasn't for the amount of wine he drank that evening. 

The party went on, and everyone had a wonderful time. Including me because no one mentioned my dish. We ate, drank and sang songs. When the evening ended, my husband retrieved my now empty baking dish, and we headed home. Going down in the elevator, he didn't say a word, feeling very proud of himself.  But when we walked out into the parking lot, I noticed a blue sports car covered in the same gray blob that I took to the party. Instinctively I looked up and saw the balcony of the apartment we had just left. Slowly putting the pieces together, I turned to look at my husband. The wine, acting like a truth serum, immediately turned him into a six-year-old confessing his crime. "I didn't want you to be sad," he pleaded. He went on to tell me that he decided to dump them over the balcony because he didn't know how else to with my now gluey mashed potatoes/gravy/biscuit dough. 

Thirty years later, I still think that was the sweetest thing my new husband could have done to spare the feelings of his new bride. But, I also cringe when I think of the massive cleaning that car must have needed. As a side note, I knew who the vehicle belonged to, and between you and me, he deserved it, but that's a story for another blog. 

The moral of the story is to marry someone thoughtful and kind,  never put cooked potatoes into a food processor because it will turn them into a paste, and never park under a balcony on Thanksgiving day. 

And if you are brave enough, try my recipe.

Mashed Potatoes with Cream Cheese for Ten People 

5 pounds baking potatoes (peeled and cut into cubes)

2 (3oz) packages cream cheese

1 (8oz) container sour cream 

1/2 cup butter softened 

1/2 cup milk

2 teaspoons onion salt

Cook potatoes in salted boiling water until softened. Drain and place in a mixing bowl. NOT IN A FOOD PROCESSOR. 

Add cream cheese and the following four ingredients. Mash or mix with a hand or standing mixer on medium speed until smooth and fluffy. Then spoon into a lightly greased 9x13 baking dish.

Bake covered at 325F for 50 minutes or until thoroughly heated.  

Happy Thanksgiving