Sunday, April 1, 2012

The Deathly Delicious Funeral Potatoes!

When I was a kid, and my mom was relief society president I used to love funerals! Yes, it’s sad when people die, but I never knew them. I didn’t have to go to the funerals. I just got to reap the sweet sweet bounty of left over pot luck! The best of these is of course the appropriately named, ‘Funeral Potatoes’! Creamy, crunchy, I swear, the only time I ate corn flakes was when they were sprinkled on top of a casserole.
I remember one time my mama said she was going to Sister So-and-so’s funeral and my response was to eagerly shout, “Bring me back some potatoes!” Death really is a beautiful thing sometimes.
Even when I knew the person, and was supposed to be sad, the good eats distracted me from properly mourning. A high school classmate was murdered and after the funeral the somber reverence I felt was mainly directed toward the 5 different types of potato salad on my plate.
I have to say, Mormon pot lucks are the single greatest thing about being Mormon. And sadly to say, I don’t think it is something that is strictly a Mormon thing. Any community or group is bound to have some cheap, easy, not good for you yet tasty enough, food to feed many people.
It’s just that Mormons have so many reasons to get together after church on Sundays. Blessings, baptisms, confirmations, going on a mission, coming home from a mission, marriages, and then deaths. Don’t forget that Mormon families tend to be a bit larger than the National average. So that means the process is repeated several times. Just with family and friends and friends of the family and fellow church members it’s almost hard not to be obligated to go to someone’s house after church to eat their food.
Now I’m not willing to go back to being Mormon just so I can crash a bunch of pot luck parties, but I might go out and buy some potatoes and corn flakes and mushroom soup and see if I can’t recreate the magic in my own kitchen.

1 comment:

  1. I've always loved potatoes. I grew up in Idaho on a potato farm. I have many memories of hauling long, heavy sprinkler pipes through mud up to your knees and vines up to your hips. I've seen potatoes as big as a football.

    It probably wouldn't be that hard to find a recipe online for funeral potatoes.

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