Tough Potatoes

I don't know what qualifies something as a salad, but am greatly appreciative that potatoes and eggs slathered in mayo counts.  Ah, the American classic: potato salad.  Healthy me...I ate salad for lunch the other day. 

Looking at the recipe, I was initially concerned about the dressing to potato ratio, and rightly so.  In her book, "A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from the Kitchen Table," Molly Wizenberg says "[i]f my math is correct, that works out to approximately one tablespoon of mayonnaise per small potato."  I thought it might be a little overwhelming, more like a soup of potatoes swimming in a mayonnaise/ranch broth.  

But that wasn't an issue.  Or, the issue.  Remember the description of my blog?  Perhaps you didn't even read it.  Anyway, this post is about one of many culinary catastrophes, granted it was only minor...hence the "wah wah wahhh" (sad trumpet noise) Wednesday post.

I let the salad dress overnight and daydreamed about it until lunch.  And when the time was right, I scooped myself a heaping pile of potatoes in anticipation of my feast...only, before potato even touched palate, I knew something was terribly wrong. 

Each hunk of potato I attempted to pierce shot out from under my fork, as if it knew of the certain and impending doom it would soon be subjected to...I had underboiled the potatoes in my haste to toss the salad together. 

No matter.  Despite the crunchiness of semi-raw potatoes and the extra few minutes it took to capture them, the salad was particularly good.  Some people even like raw potatoes, my mom for instance.  She'll occasionally eat a slice with a sprinkle of salt...but then she also eats watermelon with salt and likes sucking the butter out of frozen cookies so I can't much vouch for her taste.

My advice? Be patient and properly boil your potatoes.  Or it will be tough potatoes to you, too (Recipe here.)