Tonight, my fiancé (pinch me, please) and I are going to enjoy a celebratory dinner at his farmhouse up north (where we will get married next year). There will steak. There will be wine (for me). There will be beer (for him). There will be chocolate cake (for us).
And there will be these potatoes.
My favorite way to make ‘em. And I’ve made and eaten a lot of potatoes. It’s one of the main food groups in Wisconsin, afterall.
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I’ve always considered angel food cake to be kind of an “elderly” dessert. Something grandparents crave or that is served at the VFW Bingo Night. Never something I wanted or even considered as a legitimate dessert option. They were always lauded for their airy-ness, low-sugar content, and lack of fat. (Especially the ones at the grocery store in those clear plastic containers.) Umm…hello? This is dessert. I want rich. I want sugary. I want fatty. Thankyouverymuch.
My lack of desire for what I deemed to be a senior sweet is surprising considering my taste in every other area of my life. My house looks like that of anyone’s great aunt (I do love me a good floral pattern and light pink color scheme), I prefer vintage items to new, and I drive a Buick the size of a small yacht. I love old people tropes, relish in them.
It wasn’t until I dusted off my own two-piece tube pan (given to me by my grandmother years and years ago, getting carried from house to house on the off chance I’d suddenly be struck with the urge to make a dessert I had no interest in), that I realized what I’d been missing out on for nearly two decades of my life. Yes, it was light. Yes, it was delicately sweet. Yes, it was delicious! Especially when paired with fresh whipped cream and macerated berries (or even some jam!)
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On our second date, Seth brought me homemade jam instead of flowers.
“I thought you could get more use out of it.”
That, to me, was the height of romance.
The next morning, I spread some on my toast. Sweet, fresh, fragrant. It was better than I’d imagined. Much like our second date.
Since then, he has not only brought me flowers (hand picked and arranged by himself) numerous times, but he’s given me more jars of jam.
And now, after last week, I know how to make the magical jam. The romantic jam.
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