When my neighbor found out my husband and I were going to attend the annual Thanksgiving dinner at our church for two bucks apiece and a dish to pass, she asked what dish I planned to take. My annual dish is always scalloped potatoes. She asked, “Homemade?” I was quick, “Oh, yes. My great grandmother Crocker’s recipe.”
She knows me well, so she laughed. My crazy brain filled in the following back story:
Grandmother Crocker was in a hurry. She had promised to bring a dish to pass at the church potluck and didn’t have much time to come up with something. Chores were never ending on the farm. Potatoes were plentiful that year. So, she sliced a bunch up real quickly and threw them in an iron kettle she had inherited from her great grandmother. Tossing in whatever she had lying around, she shoved the whole mess into the wood-fueled oven. Later on she was hard-pressed to recall the exact contents; butter, milk, a hunk of cheese, and little green herbs that floated around throughout the dish. Grandmother Crocker’s potato dish was a big hit at the church. Everyone in the little town of Scallop, Scandinavia hounded her for the recipe. Blessed with an inherited dogged determination, Grandmother Betty was eventually able to duplicate the recipe.
I’ve shown the recipe here for your convenience.
(This is a pure work of fiction, of course. Do not ask me for money. I did not inherit anything from the Betty Crocker family.) p.s. No, I don’t know whether they had iron kettles or used wood-fueled ovens two hundred years ago in Scandinavia. I said this was a work of fiction.