If you aren’t from–you know, where I’m from (Syracuse, not Long Island), you may not know about salt potatoes. And if you don’t, I’m really sorry, because they are just so darn delicious.
But before we get into that, let me show you where I am:
Oh, yes. You’ll see much more of that later.
Plans for tomorrow involve a morning run, hiking (with bear spray), swimming, kayaking, and basically getting as much sun and fresh air as possible with Fritz, who hasn’t really seen the light of day since he started studying for his test.
But back to the salt potatoes. This isn’t much of a recipe, but more of an idea. An inspiration, if you will.
- Baby potatoes (I’ve used baby red potatoes from my CSA box and white potatoes–both lovely)
Kinda makes sense, when you think about it.
I’m not giving amounts of either because 1) it doesn’t matter all that much; 2) I probably don’t make them with the right amount of salt anyway since it horrifies me to add so much; and 3) it’s an inspiration, remember? I’m not here to boss anyone around.
Start off by giving the baby potatoes a hearty scrub with a stiff brush and some water to clean them–no need to peel. In fact, I’ll be mad if you do. Maybe I am here to be a little bossy.
Dump in a pile of salt (I used sea salt and I’d estimate I used about 1/3 C to 1/2 C of salt for a few pounds of potatoes) into a pot. And this is a VAST underestimation of how Syracusians really cook salt potatoes. Wikipedia just told me to use a pound of salt for every four pounds of potatoes. Another recipe said one cup of salt for six cups of water. Add water and potatoes and bring to a rolling boil.
Try it the real way, at least once. And then make it my way if it scares you to add a pound of salt to anything, even if you end up pouring most of it off.
Boil the potatoes in the salt water until tender, about 15-20 minutes.
Last rule is this: you must serve these potatoes with butter. And I’m talking real butter. Don’t show me margarine or vegetable oil based nonsense with these potatoes, please. Please? I’m begging you. Do it right.
Unless you really can’t. In that case, I still love you. But dude, I just learned that I am totally bossy.
Apparently what magic happens in the pot is that the salt forms a crust around the potatoes, preventing them from getting watery and instead making them soft and creamy. And salty. And delicious.
Fritz and his dad manned the grill, making lamb chops (or tjops, in Afrikaans) and boerewors, which are possibly my absolute two favorite grillable meats in the history of the world since I met and married a South African.
Have you ever seen anything more perfect than this?: