Okay okay okay okay okay. Okay.
I’ve managed to scrape three entire brain cells together in the same general region of my brain, so I am going to try to write this before they escape.
Another thing that happens a lot in grad school (or the back half of college), children, is brunch. This is because nobody wants to get up early enough to have breakfast. Well, it would be more accurate to say that no one wants to get up too early to have mimosas. I know almost nothing about brunch other than that champagne is encouraged. Well, and also that you can have cake with your scrambled eggs and it’s not weird.
Anyway! All my friends and I have bonkers schedules that don’t really match up at all, so we’re relying on study brunches to drag us through the semester. I am not sure how productive this is really going to be, given the sheer amount of champagne we’ve already managed to burn through, but it still counts as a thing! Put THAT on your transcript and expect to get credit for it.
(Really, really don’t.)
HERE’S HOW I MAKE HOME FRIES TO FEED THESE JERKS.
- Wash the potatoes. At least one will remind you of a phallic symbol. Eye the amount of mimosas that remain in the pitcher; this may or may not be an appropriate observation to make to the group.
- Chop your potatoes up. I’ve found that pieces that are about a quarter inch thick and approximately an inch square, or so, are really great for cooking. But potatoes have those round bits on the end that you are just going to have to guess at.
- This is like life.
- Boil the potato chunks, which means put them in a pot, add just enough water to cover them, put the pot on a burner on the stove, and turn the burner on. Five minutes after the water starts boiling (ish, or alternately when the potatoes are mostly cooked but a little crunchy still) (and if you don’t know how to tell when water is boiling I cannot help you, no one can), take the pot off and drain the water.
- You can leave the lid on the pot, but I never do, because occasionally that makes me forget that I’m cooking anything at all. At least once in your potato-cooking career the water is going to try to boil over and escape. I have learned a Magic Trick to prevent this from happening; it is called “put a wooden spoon over it.” I think you can guess what to do.
- Honestly I always overcook the potatoes because I get distracted, or forget; so if no one else is around, you could just go ahead and eat them now, if they are at the consistency you like. I won’t tell anyone. No one would care, but I still won’t tell them.
- Alternately, get a pan and melt some butter in it. How much? ENOUGH, you twit. Just enough for the city.
- (At least enough to cover the bottom of the pan without having to do that tilty thing to smear it over the bare spots.)
- After the butter has heated up, put in a single layer of the potatoes–depending on how many you cut up in the first place, you may have to do a couple of batches.You want the widest part of the potato to be in the butter.
- Salt them! Pepper them! Season them to taste, you swine!
- Wait a little bit.
- Flip them over. Repeat step 10, but you only have to continue being a swine if you want to be. I am not here to criticize your life’s ambitions.
- How do you tell when they’re done? I am asking; I do not know. Either until you feel like long enough has gone by, or until they’re evenly brown, or until you get bored and hungry. Whatever comes first, take the potatoes out of the pan and put them in some kind of holding cell until you are ready to properly chastise them.
- Repeat steps 9-13 until you are out of potatoes, or seasonings, or the will to live, or until you accidentally overheat your stove, start a fire, and need a new place to live. Then you should probably repeat the whole recipe without the part where you burned your house down.
- Eat them? I dunno. Live your life.