Over the last few days I have been trying to remember a word that forever slips my mind. To suggest that it is but one word that forever slips my mind would be an…another word which jostles for space in the lexicon that balances delicately on the very tip of my tongue The irony is that, at the outset, I had, for once, remembered the forgotten word which was to be revealed to the reader in some amusing fashion; but it’s gone. To add a frisson of excitement, and indeed mystery, I had earlier noted down the just remembered word but where I noted it down has since become unclear so I shall move on to mashed potato in the hope that it may reveal itself along the way.
A bowl of lovingly made mashed potato is an iconic dish that, as is the way with icons, so often disappoints. The disappointment can usually be placed directly at the feet of that lack of love, which lack is the downfall of so much cooking, and the lack of a proper potato ricer which, on searching for a reference to illustrate this essential kitchen tool to you, dear reader, I have managed to acquire on line, but 5 real minutes past, a replacement for my old rusty one for the princely sum of 20€, reduced from 137€! I don’t like exclamation marks but I am fucking well exclaiming.* There’s nothing to see here…move along ….to boiling potatoes in chunks, in cold water, and with plenty of sea salt. Pass the cooked potatoes through the ricer and add lumps of unsalted butter, plenty of white pepper, big dollops of creme fraiche and the yoke of a fresh ( freshly laid is ideal ) egg and stir together with a wooden spoon. Such is the potato on top of the “Sheperds Pie” in the photograph which is also a vegetarian “Shepherd’s Pie” using a meat substitute which was as rich and deeply flavoured as any I have eaten and which allows me to look my local lambs in the face without shame ….although looking lambs lovingly in the face could suggest, to those who have spent lonely weeks on a mountain side with lambs’ mothers, something of the sort.
Sadly, that which was lost has not yet been found, although the tip of my tongue is atingle with possible candidates pushing themselves forward …enigma has just offered itself up and the “a” ending is definitely a clue….the search will go on as, like J. Marion Wayne, I set off into the snowy white pages of Roger’s ( as opposed to the mispelled bloke who has his own one) Thesaurus from which I will not return without my errant noun.
* I would mention the site from which I bought the ricer but I don’t want to be responsible for anything going wrong as I haven’t used the site before.