Not So Yucky Yukon Golds

I hoped that the farmer’s sign was not a commentary on the quality of his produce. At the Dallas Farmer’s Market, I spied these Yukon Gold potatoes and lusted for them, despite the label proclaiming them “Yuckon” Gold. I figured that farmer was busy growing food and didn’t have time to spell. I didn’t care, because I needed some potato soup!

I’ve told y’all how to make potato chowder before, but I needed something kin to my Mamaw’s recipe for soup. Yes, I am fully aware that when the temperatures are in the 90s it isn’t “soup weather.” That never stopped my Mamaw.

When you harvested the potatoes, you had to make potato soup (it can simmer on the stove while other work is being done). You’ll never guess what you had when the corn got ripe …

Oh. You guessed. That’s right, corn soup.

Those two dishes from my childhood remain favorites of mine to this day, but no one can cook them the way my grandmother did. Unfortunately, she didn’t leave a recipe.

I bought those Yukon Gold potatoes and stood in my kitchen trying to channel my Grandmother. I knew I was sunk, because I didn’t have the “proper” ingredients, nor did I have the “proper” utensils. I had no cast iron pot for the cooking, but more importantly, I didn’t have Mamaw’s knife. I always thought the “magic” was in the blade she used.

It probably had once been a full-sized butcher knife, but fifty years of honing on my Papaw’s whetstone had reduced it to what looked like an extremely long stiletto. We children were never allowed to touch it, because it was so sharp it would make short work of our fingers —literally. It cut through bone faster than you can spit.

Mamaw certainly made short work of the vegetables. She chopped with a skill that would make those “top chefs” on television hide their heads in shame.

Her potato soup had few ingredients: potatoes, milk (or cream), and chicken broth. For flavoring, she sauteed onion in bacon grease and used salt and pepper. No fancy spices for my grandmother. She turned up her nose at such pretenses. If we got lucky, she put some bacon in the pot, too.

While, technically, I had all those simple ingredients, I knew it wasn’t the same. You see, with the exception of salt and pepper, none of the ingredients my Mamaw used were “store bought.” It was all “farm fresh” — from their own farm.

The bacon came from one of their sows (that went to hog heaven to provide it). The potatoes and onions grew in their own sandy soil, watered by their sweat. The chicken broth had been cooked the day before, when some hapless hen got close enough for Mamaw to wring its neck and throw it in the stewpot. The milk had come fresh from a cow’s teat that very morning.

I didn’t have ingredients like that … but I had to do the best with what I had. With the exception of adding cayenne pepper and some mushrooms (which I’m pretty sure would make my Mamaw roll over in her grave because I doubt she ever cooked one), I stayed true to her recipe. It was just simple potato soup.

And it was good.

What’s that? A recipe? Mamaw didn’t give me one, so I can’t tell you. Just throw stuff into the pot until it tastes right. If you can get some of those “Yuckon” Golds, they are the best!

Other posts you might enjoy:

1. Soup’s On
2. Potato Chowder. Good Comfort Food.
3. Only The Good Friday: Mmm MMM Good Tomato Soup
4. Sweetie Pie’s Ribeyes In Decatur Has The World’s Best Baked ‘Tater
5. I’m So Glad Spoons Cafe In McKinney Is In My Neck Of The Woods!

Tagged as: cooking, Memories, recipes