abracadabra, voila, open sesame...

Everyone doubts the otherworldy around us. We doubt, yet we can't turn away from the approaching scent of mystery. A street magician tugs us close even as we try our damnest to walk away. Have you ever been to a restaurant that had table-to-table entertainment while you wait for your meal? That's probably a too-specific question so I'll just come right out and say what I need to say, tell what I need to tell. There was (still is) a Mexican place in Omaha called Julio's that had a very good sleight-of-hand magician on selected Friday and Saturday nights (he is the was, the restaurant is still there). He'd move around the place doing two or three very quick and deftly executed tricks before moving along to the next top. Not only was he a great trickster, he was hugely funny. (As an aside, his name was Pat Hazell. I can remember that because my friend dated his sister and he had finished second one year to one Jerome Seinfeld as funniest new comedian in America, circa 1982.) But back to me...in my house I have my very own tricks. Tricks that not only astonish and bewilder but also filly your tummy when I'm done. I'd certainly offer thanks to my magical mentor but I don't have one...my bestest monkeyshine is something dubbed 'magic' potatoes. The onset of this mystical doing came as I prepared some salmon and potatoes for Laurel way back when. (We've covered her love of both off in some other post.) The fish is easy enough, but it seemed to me that pototoes can be a little bit...bromitic: baked, mashed, french fried, boiled, on and on and on. I was overcome with the need for something different, easy, and appealing to the ever increasing loss of taste you get with those six or seven-year olds. It struck me as I stared at the new pototoes in the the stainer....slice, oil, salt, pepper, and in the pan. I thought some more, eyed my salmon accouterments, and suddenly I knew what to do....slice, oil, salt, pepper and in the pan. Crispy discs of delight with just the perfect texture and flavor for the fish. Now, I know that this is something that's been done with potatoes for eons and eons all across the galaxy, but the wonderment when people see it for the first time is just silly. I could just as easily pull a rabbit from the hat and get the same response. Laurel called on the phone Saturday evening and asked if the pototoes needed to be cooked before they were put in the pan. Cooked? Isn't that was the pan is for? It can't be...potatoes cooking in a pan! Shazam!

Many thanks to the lovely that gave the moniker "magic pototoes"...she had her doubts.

t