In the end, I always want potatoes. Mashed potatoes. Nothing like mashed potatoes when you're feeling blue. Nothing like getting into bed with a bowl of hot mashed potatoes already loaded with butter, and methodically adding a thin cold slice of butter to every forkful. The problem with mashed potatoes, though, is that they require almost as much hard work as crisp potatoes, and when you're feeling blue the last thing you feel like is hard work. Of course, you can always get someone to make the mashed potatoes for you, but let's face it: the reason you're blue is that there isn't anyone to make them for you.
In this excerpt, the author expresses a deep affection for mashed potatoes, particularly when feeling down. The comfort of hot, buttery mashed potatoes brings solace during tough times, embodying a sense of warmth and indulgence. However, the effort required to prepare them contrasts with the desire for ease when emotions are low.
There’s a poignant realization that the need for comfort food often highlights feelings of loneliness, as the narrator acknowledges that the absence of someone to share these moments with can intensify their sadness. This duality of craving comfort yet feeling the weight of solitude captures a universal experience of longing for connection and the simple joys of food.
