Trash Potatoes

Last spring I tried a twist on mashed potatoes. (Is it mash or mashed? I always just say mash so that’s what I’ll say moving forward.) Anyway, I thought I could make the cauliflower kind but make them taste good. I mean, if you add enough ranch, heavy cream, cream cheese and butter, even cauliflower can be edible, right?

My CMPs were a semi-hit. My in-laws liked them and I thought Frank did too. So yesterday I decided to try it again. But this time I took it even farther. Not only did I try to make good-tasting cauliflower mash potatoes, I tried to pass them off as potato mash potatoes.

When Frank called on his way home from work I said, “We’re having mash potatoes! Do you want brown or white gravy?” I planted the seed. Then, as soon as I hung up, I quickly began to discard all the cauliflower evidence. This included throwing away all the cauliflower remains, sending some pieces down the disposal and even washing out the food processor. I wasn’t sure if he was smart enough to know that I would only use the food processor if I was making the cauliflower kind but I didn’t want to take any chances.

But what about the smell? I had steamed the cauliflower so I was sure the kitchen had that gassy-vegetable aroma although I was immune to it, having been in the trenches. I decided to hurry up and cook these sausages that I was going to serve with the CMPs. That should mask the smell, I thought.

But he walked in before I could start on the sausages. He immediately said, “Hey, why does it smell like trash in here?”

I looked totally guilty and said, “I don’t know. I mean, we took the trash out today.”

He said, “I wonder if it’s something in the recycle bin in the garage.”

I just laughed nervously. Smell, what smell?

When I gave him the CMPs he still had no idea. He couldn’t identify them by sight. And when he ate them, I asked, “How do you like the mash potatoes?” He said, “You know what? They kinda remind me of those cauliflower ones you made before.”

“So they remind you of those but they’re not like those?” I asked.

“These are MUCH better than those,” he said, as he continued to shovel them in his mouth.

“Ha! I fooled you!” I said triumphantly. “These ARE cauliflower mashed potatoes! But you LIKE them!”

“Ew, they are? I don’t think I like them anymore,” he said.

“What? You loved them before you knew they were made of cauliflower!” I argued.

“So that’s what smelled like trash! I knew you were acting suspicious,” he said, turning the tables.

And with that, he wouldn’t eat another bite of them! I had to eat both our bowls! I thought they were pretty good, especially with tons of white gravy.

At the end of the night I didn’t feel so great. “What’s wrong?” Frank asked.
“Too many trash potatoes,” I said.