Mashed potatoes seem to be the kind of thing that get used a lot, and not necessarily for food.
When I was a kid, I would spend a week every summer at church camp, and the food was not unlike the muck on the bottom of the lake where we swam in our modest one-piece suits and rowed canoes. I remember one particularly bad mealtime, sitting at the table with some particularly mischievous boys and girls, each trying to outdo the other in grossness. Into our bowl of gravy, we poured a glass of grape punch, and into the concoction, we dumped a shaker of salt and another of pepper, and into this seasoned slop we poured the buttered peas. Our mixture wasn't perfect, though, until we stirred in the bowl of mashed potatoes, one sticky spoonful at a time, until we had an oozing mess of starchy glop dotted with tiny green balls. We were so pleased with ourselves until the Hun of the Kitchen appeared at the head of the table with her arms folded over her voluminous chest, and her multiple chins wagged at each of us. She threatened to make us all eat what we had created, since we clearly thought we were better cooks than the ones in the kitchen. But she was bluffing, and we never played with out potatoes again.
Mashed potatoes also serve as an effective missile. Position a wad on a spoon, pull back on the dining room catapult, and let loose with a steaming mess of mash. Daughter No. 2 used this weapon against Daughter No. 1 once, and even though she missed and hit the wall instead of her sister, she made her point.
But my favorite use for mashed potatoes, other than as food, is to create replicas of navigational points for extra-terrestrial vehicles. If the consistency is right, you could build a mountain to the ceiling with them.
I can't think of a food that has so many more uses beyond dietary. Well, maybe Spam. That you can carve into. Oh, and cheese. People make sculptures with cheese, too, but this is all about the spud.
When I was a kid, I would spend a week every summer at church camp, and the food was not unlike the muck on the bottom of the lake where we swam in our modest one-piece suits and rowed canoes. I remember one particularly bad mealtime, sitting at the table with some particularly mischievous boys and girls, each trying to outdo the other in grossness. Into our bowl of gravy, we poured a glass of grape punch, and into the concoction, we dumped a shaker of salt and another of pepper, and into this seasoned slop we poured the buttered peas. Our mixture wasn't perfect, though, until we stirred in the bowl of mashed potatoes, one sticky spoonful at a time, until we had an oozing mess of starchy glop dotted with tiny green balls. We were so pleased with ourselves until the Hun of the Kitchen appeared at the head of the table with her arms folded over her voluminous chest, and her multiple chins wagged at each of us. She threatened to make us all eat what we had created, since we clearly thought we were better cooks than the ones in the kitchen. But she was bluffing, and we never played with out potatoes again.
Mashed potatoes also serve as an effective missile. Position a wad on a spoon, pull back on the dining room catapult, and let loose with a steaming mess of mash. Daughter No. 2 used this weapon against Daughter No. 1 once, and even though she missed and hit the wall instead of her sister, she made her point.
But my favorite use for mashed potatoes, other than as food, is to create replicas of navigational points for extra-terrestrial vehicles. If the consistency is right, you could build a mountain to the ceiling with them.I can't think of a food that has so many more uses beyond dietary. Well, maybe Spam. That you can carve into. Oh, and cheese. People make sculptures with cheese, too, but this is all about the spud.
Comments
Gross, but funny.
I remember using mashed potato as a weapon, too. Messy and inaccurate but highly satisfying.