Confessions of a Foodie

There's something about potatoes. I don't know what it is, but I swear there's something magical about them. Baked. Deep fried. Mashed. Salted. Drowned in butter. It almost doesn't matter how I cook them, their mysterious power over me and my taste buds still remains.

There's something cathartic about slowly devouring an entire bowl of potatoes. Maybe this train of thought is coming from a hungry place. Maybe it's because potatoes just happened to be what I was craving when I got home today. Maybe it's because I was just watching 'Julie and Julia' in class and now all I can think about is food.

But as I sit here eating a huge bowl of mashed potatoes for dinner, two things occur to me: 1.) that my parents are probably horrified to learn their almost grown-up daughter is eating only mashed potatoes for dinner — and is admitting it freely on the Internet — and 2.) potatoes may be the single greatest food on the face of the Earth.

Not that I am discriminating against other foods — all food is wonderful. But potatoes in all their glory, particularly mashed, are the granddaddy of all foods. The velvety texture as they roll around in my mouth. The warm sensation as they pleasantly crawl down my throat. The satisfactory feeling as they nestle comfortably in my stomach. They're simply wonderful.