Ok so let us assume that you’re one of those freakish people that can bake a potato correctly to where when it comes out of the oven it’s done all the way through. If that’s you then A) I have no idea why you’re reading this blog because clearly you’re more adept at cooking than me, and B) …there is no B. you shouldn’t be reading this blog. You should go back to your perfect potato cooking world where all recipes come out as read. You…Pinterest freak of nature.
Moving on. I consider myself a decent cook. So when I originally saw this recipe:
I immediately thought to myself “self…you can do this with your eyes closed and your Kitchenaid turned off.”
I was wrong.
Let me start with this lovely picture:
Notice in the recipe how it says to “carve out the inside of the potato leaving 1/4 inch around”.
I decimated one potato to crumbs and the remaining either split in half or fell apart. What Michelangelo potato sculptor created that first work of art?? And what tools were they using because no ordinary utensil did that, I tell you. That was some freak of nature science experiment utensil. I’m willing to think that it was placed on the tele-port machine ah la Star Trek and the inside pulp was transported out of the potato. That’s what I choose to believe.
Anyways…so after I was finished hacking these poor innocent potatoes into shells that even their mother wouldn’t recognize, I decided it would indeed be much easier to use my Kitchenaid. Because Kitchenaid can fix everything, right?
Wrong. It can’t fix this.
What came from my mixer was this chunky mass of goop that I was able to fork uneasily into their once comfortable shells. (This is how I pictured my own innards after my child was done after 9 months inside me kicking me to hell.)
The end result was husband approved and wasn’t too unappetizing aside from the lumpiness of the potatoes. Caleb wanted nothing to do with it but he is the only child on earth who wants nothing to do with anything potato related. So on the Derby scale we give it a reluctant 1.5 out of 3 stars.