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A vivid blue gradient and a paintbrush-swipe of clouds just before the top of the Crystal Range. At this point, the terrain on the other side is a mystery. Just like the mystery that is dinner. |
I was raised on mashed potato flakes. In fact, I think I preferred them to real mashed potatoes for a while. I'd have mashed potatoes with ketchup and fantasize about the french fries I was almost never allowed to have. I remember my grandfather, a self-proclaimed "gourmand" bitching to my parents at the Thanksgiving dinner table about me putting ketchup on his homemade mashed potatoes, shaking his head. I also remember buying the cup-o-mashed potato cups all throughout middle school. I'd rehydrate them with less water than recommended and somehow I really enjoyed the kinda crusty, kinda dense, concentrated flavor, not fully rehydrated quality of the whole thing. Anyway...given all this backstory, it's no surprise I really liked the MJF potatoes. And Dennis, who I didn't expect to like them, was enthusiastic too. "Getting back to my Scottish roots," he said.