Make My own Pasta (Children's)

 

It all started one day, when sitting around my kitchen table with friends and family, the conversation stirred towards the subject of spuds; more precisely on how to cook the perfect mashed potatoes. It became a very heated debate, with every individual claiming they had the key to the perfect mash. The obvious solution to put an end to this controversy, our Edwina suggested, was to hold a competition judged by people whose palate we trust.

I know, dear readers, you might find this a bit eccentric, but we all thought that this was a brilliant idea and wasting no time,  bank holiday Monday was chosen, the judges selected, the competition rules drawn up (more about them later). The contestants were our good friend Cáit, her daughter Ellen who teamed up with Alix, my daughter and her friend Jane; Dick her husband, Mary her sister on a visit from Donegal-little did she know-, Edwina, Julian and yours truly. You might find this a bit parochial, but let me tell you when winning a competition is at stake, family and friend ties fly out the window! I 'll pass on the judges, suffice to say that they were pleased to be chosen and imbued with the sense of the occasion.  The allowed ingredients were: any type of potatoes, milk, cream, crème fraîche, nutmeg, salt and pepper and that's it.

The mood in the week preceding the event was quite conspiratory, we hardly spoke to each other, as if we would inadvertently reveal some winning secrets...So on the Monday, bright eyed and bushy tailed we entered the cookery school kitchen armed not only with our potato ricers but also with the assurance "I 'll show them what a good mash is ". The rules stated that it was mandatory to have a couple of glasses of wine while cooking -except for the young ones of course- making snide remarks or being smug and contemptuous towards other contestants would be penalised and bribing the judges would bring instant disqualification. As the steam rose up from the pots, we could not help noticing that Julian's potatoes had a very odd colour, a day glow yellow, more reminiscent of Chernobyl than top of the range organic that he sourced with great care; still, with difficulty we kept a straight face.  He came last. I tried to sway the judges by getting into character -see photo- but it did not do me any good, as I came second last. The winner was our Edwina, her secret? Masses of cream and butter, steaming the potatoes, but above all a healthy grating of nutmeg. Now dear readers, you know what to do to your spuds but if you have any tips we could continue the debate...