Another post from the alter ego, The Unconventional Newlywed…
Ah, the sweet potato. The charming poster child for our modern paleolithic folk, the healthy, trendier fancy. Packed full of vitamins and minerals, with Pinterest recipes aplenty, it’s a sure crowd pleaser for the health-conscious family. Right?
There are some deceitful traps in today’s blogorific recipe culture. And, I fell into two of them with my attempt to make sweet potatoes into something alluring for the husband and I.
First trap: THOSE DAMNED KITCHEN TOOLS!
So, here’s the recipe I was trying to mimic. I like it because it looks easy – not even pretty – easy. Looks easy. Isn’t.
|Louisiana Sweet Potato pancakes from http://allrecipes.com/recipe/louisiana-sweet-potato-pancakes/|
As it turns out with these pesky, beta-carotene rich rooty vegetables, they are a prickly pain in the ass to mush up. I boiled my sweet potato browns (yes, that’s a pun) for some 20 minutes and thought I was in the clear to mush freely.
Then, I found out I don’t have a masher.
Then I found out raw-ish the center was not mashable anyway.
Then I began to hack at the vegetable, trying to forcefully coax it into mashedness.
I remembered blenders are good at this. Alas, the wee blender I have was no match for such a task. Nightmares of sizzling and smoke danced in my head and I quickly quit.
|At the point I was tempted to take my own photo, but it was not attractive. Thanks, lickthebowlgood.blogspot.com for showing me up.|
The rest of the recipe turned out surprisingly well, considering the unwanted chunks. However, all my failed mashing, chopping and aggressive blending turned this “10 minute” prep into an hour.
Flour on my nose and decorating my shirt, I managed to fry up a pile of nutmeg-scented beauties. I also managed to realize the recipe makes 24 pancakes and I was making breakfast only for myself, Alex and my sister.
People eat nine pancakes each, right?
Noticing Alex eyeing my Pisa-like tower of potato hotcakes, I offered, oh-so generously, “do you want some?”
Shrugging and looking nonchalantly at his coffee, he responds, “maybe I’ll taste one. I don’t like sweet potatoes.”
What?! As if these orange frisbees hadn’t damaged my ego enough.
Second trap: Pinterest and food porn don’t work on all husbands.
If you’re married to the stubborn “I like Uncrustables!” type, sweet potato pancakes just can’t compete. Some of us care about the vitamins and minerals we put into our bodies, some of us prefer to marry healthier spouses and life a vitamin-enriched life by proxy.
I’d like to blame Pinterest, modern kitchen appliances and Internet recipes for luring me – yet again – down the rabbit hole of modern wifehood expectations, where I stand unable to defend myself with just a cast iron skillet and wooden spoon in hand.
Also, it helps to ask Alex directly, if he likes a food before I try to make it. Talking about it to his family, then to our friends, then to myself, with him in earshot doesn’t count.
Marriage, communication, go figure.