I’m picky when it comes to mashed potatoes. I like them decadently buttery, slightly coarsely mashed, and dirty (without any skins removed). Garlic and herbs are only afterthoughts and not really necessary if the potatoes are well prepared. 

My mom always made dirty mashed potatoes, she claims out of laziness (honestly, peeling potatoes is dull), but now I really miss the flavorful skin in the fluffy, almost-too-white-to-be-natural mashed potatoes I’ve been served elsewhere. Potato skins are tasty, and also full of fiber!

This may seem like a “duh” recipe, since there’s nothing fancy or complicated about making mashed potatoes, but I feel it’s important to make my official mashed potato stance clear: (1) Mashed potatoes are not difficult to make and therefore should not be reserved for Thanksgiving or other special occasions, and (2) leaving a bit of texture adds interest and flavor. 
I garnished my potatoes with a sprig of tarragon from the garden, even though I didn’t add any tarragon to the potatoes. You could add garlic (I like to roast mine and then mash it in with the butter) or chopped fresh or dried herbs, but the potatoes will be delicious on their own. Also, don’t be afraid to use older potatoes for mashing. Mine were getting soft and had eyes I needed to pick off, but they made excellent mashed potatoes and no one was the wiser.

Dirty Mashed Potatoes

• 1-1/2 pounds redskin potatoes
• 3 tablespoons butter
• 1 cup half and half
• salt and pepper to taste

Bring a pot of salted water (deep enough to cover the potatoes by 1 inch) to a boil. Rinse and quarter the potatoes and drop into the boiling water. Reduce heat to simmer and cook uncovered for about 15 minutes, or until the potatoes are tender at the center. This may take more or less time depending on the size of your potatoes.

Drain the potatoes and return them to the stovetop in the pot over low heat. Add the butter and mash with a whisk or potato masher until the butter is melted and the potatoes are very coarsely mashed. Add the cream and continue mashing until the cream is warmed and the consistency is to your liking. Add salt and pepper to taste and serve. Serves 4. 

Peas have gone completely unrecognized by this blog, yet they’re one of my favorite legumes and one of the only green things I’ll buy frozen. In fact, I read recently in Bon Appétit that frozen peas are often just as good, if not better, than fresh ones, and now feel much more justified. (Frozen food = guilt, at least in Little Gourmande Land).

The greatest thing about a bag of frozen peas is the ease with which one can add freshness and color to just about anything - leftovers, canned soup, raman noodles, etc. My dad famously spruces up recipes with peas, and though we’ve teased him for adding them to just about everything he cooks, I admit he’s on to something. 

Frozen peas also make a tasty and quick side dish. Their sweetness and the mint in this recipe made for a nice contrast with a smoky leg of lamb this Easter, but this is a quick enough recipe to make any night of the week, as well as a good way to use up some of that mint you have running rampant in your garden (or, if you just planted mint this spring, the mint that is soon to be running rampant in your garden).

Minted Peas with Shallot

• 2 tablespoons butter
• 3/4 pound frozen peas
• 2 small shallots, thinly sliced
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh mint
• salt and pepper to taste

Melt the butter in a medium to large skillet with a lid over medium heat. Reduce heat to low and add shallot and frozen peas (no need to thaw first. Stir gently until the peas thaw, covering with a lid between stirs to help steam the peas. Once the peas have thawed, uncover and allow any liquid to cook off.

Add the mint and salt and pepper to taste. Serve immediately.