Dancing Hash Browns

The hash browns weren't dancing.  I was.  My red plate over my head, shaking my booty, not caring that my husband in the next room could see me.  We've been together so long that he probably barely notices my outbursts of movement.










Have I ever made hash browns?  I don't think so.  What was so special about these?  I grew the potatoes!  My kids dug them up.  I rinsed them under the kitchen faucet, grated them on the box grater into the hot skillet of butter and salt. 

Perfection. 





Were they perfect?  No, not by any culinary standard.  Were they perfect for me?  Yes.  In that moment, crispy potato goodness between my teeth, I was perfectly happy.  I am discovering that growing and making my own food is much more satisfying than I thought it would be.  

Very satisfying.