Down with Potato Power

Oh, did I need to clarify? I wrote the below post, the review of the Scent Opera, which premiered at the Guggenheim earlier in the summer, in June.

It was published on a blog about NYC.

So, what else is new.

I no longer eat potatoes. Furthermore, I have a personal vendetta against them.

When I first found out I'd have to give up potatoes, I grieved. The doctor/nutritionist had drawn a prick of blood from my ear lobe, and did an allergy test. He determined I had an intolerance for potatoes- my favorite food. Aware that all things need to be kept in perspective, I allowed myself to be mildly devastated.

Of course, I questioned his credentials. But as he was very expensive, I decided to at least try out his advice. I told myself I would not eat potatoes for two weeks and see what that was like.

Anyone that has lived with me knows (boarding school roomies, college roomies, post-college flatmates) that I always keep a big box of instant Potato Buds at the ready. If I've had a long, hard or bad day, I can be found at the kitchen counter pouring a heaping mound of those dehydrated potato flakes into the deepest bowl the cabinet holds. Maybe I'm exhausted, maybe I'm fighting tears, but autopilot guides me. I boil some water, grab the milk from the fridge, the butter too, some cheddar cheese, and position the salt and pepper. I wait for the water to boil, and imagine taking my first creamy bite, and know the tension will already be falling from my shoulders.

The water boils. I pour it atop the mound of flakes, until they are three quarters submerged. Next, a few splashes of milk. Then the butter, slices of cheese, two pinches of salt, and many grinds of fresh black pepper-- stir it all together-- make sure it's evenly mixed-- and then, as I almost cannot stop the drooling saliva from streaming out of my mouth, I fork as much as the utensil will hold, into my mouth. My mouth rejoices at the familiar flavors and comforting, creamy texture.

If the day has really sucked, I will eat another bowl, and then another. I don't drown my sorrows with ice cream, pot, or booze. It's all about the instant mashed potatoes.

So when the doctor told me it was a No Go on the potato, I began to panic.

Quitting potatoes, cold turkey, even for the first two weeks, when I promised myself it was just an experiment, was not easy. At brunch I'd stare longingly at someone else's homefries, hashed browns (the most painful for me, I truly love hashed browns, the greasier the better, like McD's breakfast ones and Waffle House franchises scattered across the south). It was the worst if the person I was eating brunch with didn't finish their potatoes and left them on the plate, and I had to watch them until the waitress finally would whisk them away. Going out to eat- all the things I would jump on- soup of the day is Potato Leek (YES!) now meant salad instead. Because I cannot bring myself to say "hold the potatoes" if the chicken or steak entree comes with roasted potatoes, or scalloped potatoes (another favorite), or mashed potatoes, I sigh and resign myself to the fish.

But before I knew it, I felt amazing. I had so much more energy than I used to- and my head felt clear. The usual battle against lethargy I had long waged, seemed to have struck a truce. My brain fog dissipated. And forgoing the potato was the only thing in my life that I had changed. The rest of my eating habits, sleep, or exercise regimens (lack thereof) had not changed.

I realized, all those years, when I had been so devoted and loving toward potatoes, they had been doing me wrong. Interestingly, or maybe not, the thing that was helping me cope, was making me feel like crap in the first place. I had been eating them up, and they had been keeping me down. I was furious! Ungrateful tubers! I vowed never to reach out to them again.

And so, to this day, my Potato Buds box sits unfinished, atop the fridge. My roommates have no interest in them, they cope with their bad days in other ways. I keep the box there to remind myself of not only my willpower, but the added determination I feel when giving the box the evil eye.