#2: Sugar, spice, and an accidental potato pie...

Hello and welcome to Fried Lines, a newsletter that helps me talk about my fondness for potatoes.

I wholeheartedly thank you for going through the first issue of my newsletter and taking the time to write to me about it. It was all the warmth in the world that I needed to continue publishing my silly stories here.

I have never particularly enjoyed dark winters. Nonetheless, something about this season has always helped me unleash my adventures in the kitchen!

As an amateur cook, I have often attempted to experiment with contrasting routines and ingredients. 

I got acquainted with the world of whipping and chopping when I believed that cooking always demands the ‘perfect’ taste (or sometimes even the ‘perfect’ shape).  Growing up, however, helped me rise above my little biases, and embrace all the accidental treats that usually crowd my plate.

I have often wondered if cooking, in fact, is just another experiment fitting into the tastes of its observers. Needless to say, most of my cooking experiences have often been fortunate (and unfortunate) mixes of ‘incompatible’ spices and unusual trials that quite happily make their way to my belly.

Adding spices to food has always been like solving a delightful puzzle for me. I usually scan the shelves ensuring that the oil drizzles down the pan with every possible flavour I find. 

I had picked up this exhilarating habit (while putting coriander powder in scrambled eggs and schezwan chutney in yellow dal) with my flatmates in Pune. If pasta would taste bland, we would toss it in a spoonful of sizzling soy sauce and if the roti would be thin and dry (mostly resembling papad), we would fry it with cheese, tomatoes, and chillies until it looked like a slice of pizza in denial. 

The outcome always surprised me as I ate a plateful of my triumphs, and eventually, it was inscribed on the bumbling cookbook of my life.

Last month, on a similar expedition, I  used my search engine for finding ‘the easiest potato dishes that can be made at home’. After going through a bunch of blogs, it seemed that potato pancakes were destined to transform my cooking skills forever. Oddly, I put the soundtrack of The Umbrella Academy on a loop as I somehow rose above my confusion and started putting the potatoes (after boiling them), spices, eggs, and a bit of baking powder together. I put my hands on every possible container and sprinkled different spices all over the mix. 

Suddenly, I was struck with the prospect of chopping salad, and thus, I moved on to slicing an assortment of onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, and carrots. At this point, I wondered who diligently grows them for me, and the reason I get to cook food in the first place.

Mashing...blending...mixing...I whipped the spicy potato mix (now clubbed with onions), carved out a tiny potato dough, and put it on the pan which was warmed up with some oil. 

The familiar aroma of bubbling oil was not enough of an assurance, and so I waited, and I waited, and I waited for the frightening result of the minuscule concoction. The first attempt was utterly disappointing and the first pancake looked like a half-burnt potato blanket drowned in its miseries. Irrespective of how easy it looked on the internet, it didn’t meet my expectations.

The heaviness of my heart sank in its own despair, and I proceeded with the only shot that I seemed to have for the rest of my evening. I mustered my courage and did what I assumed would be the next best thing — toss the leftovers into the oven and bake them in full spirits. Thank heavens I finally have an oven now! With every second escaping from the machine, I crossed my fingers with all my hope. 

Violà! Finally, the dish somehow looked like a baked potato pie?! With perplexed hope, I took a small slice off the bowl, and let out a deep sigh of relief and fulfilment, chewing on the first bite of the piping, peppery pie. It didn’t look or taste like a conventional potato pie. 

It, however, tasted like a giant piece of potato wrapped in the flavours of my happiest dining memories. Maybe that is the reason I almost felt like Professor Utonium at that moment.

Later, I tried garnishing the pie with my salad, a handful of crumbled potato chips, and my strange invention of a dip layered with a little butter, tomato ketchup, and hot garlic sauce.  

An unplanned experiment and a story which I shall remember whenever I crave an accidental potato pie! 

Since my ‘dish’ could not be captured very well on camera, I am hesitant to post a picture in my publication. But if you really wish to see it, you could ask me and I’ll be happy to send it to you separately.

While cleaning up the kitchen I wondered if I could observe a dish every time I wished to recreate it, and yet it could still divert from my expectation. 

Perhaps, that is the inherent beauty of cooking. Would it still be cherished the way I scarfed down my revelation in one sitting? Or would it be laughed off as another wasteful cooking incident?

Since my newsletter is possibly the only cookbook I will ever get to write, I hope someday, someone stumbles upon my learning amidst a sea full of tabs and comes up with an unparalleled version of the potato pie that I created in my kitchen.