Jalapeno-Cheddar Potato Fritters

Posted November 29, 2010

Find more about mashed potatoes , vegetable , leftovers

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You know exactly how good it's going to be before you even pick up your fork.

And it's not rocket science, making them--although you also don't feel like you're, say, adhering very closely to any particular weight-loss plan.

Other leftovers involve far less hoo-ha.

Or more immediate gratification.

Or a higher gross factor.

But these are kind of fun to make, given that you get to beat innocent cereal with a rolling pin.

See? You could make these bigger, which would decrease the amount of flipping you have to accomplish.

Because the truth is that they're fragile and must be flipped very gently to avoid the leaking of the melting insides through the crust.

You can't make enough of these, so don't even try.

Just make a couple for each person, so they can experience being overcome by longing for more.

I actually tried to make them sound like something the kids wouldn't like!

Which was dasturdly, and backfired anyway.

If you are like me, then you are still, even today (Monday), negotiating Thanksgiving leftovers. There are the easy ones, and they go fast: for instance, the stuffing, if there is any, which I eat for breakfast the morning after; also whatever is left of the turkey's highly accessible breast, which gets sliced up for sandwiches and is gone by noon that same day, thereby also using up much of the available gravy. Cranberry sauce gets eaten on toast or out of the bowl with a spoon, and pecan pie, well, pecan pie gets eaten from the dish with a fork, standing at the counter, until it is just a sticky memory. Then there's the soup, which we make from the carcass and any available dark meat, and this is a long-simmered affair that involves parsnips and carrots and celery, onions and leeks and parsley, and, finally, Michael's famous matzo balls (by which I mean this packaged mix); we ate this soup for dinner last night, with ropy shreds of long-cooked turkey coiling around our spoons and the first of the Christmas music playing, and it was one of the most comfortable meals I can ever remember having eaten.

About the leftover mashed potatoes, though: we are a house divided. For example, there is Ben, who thinks an ideal breakfast is a toasted bagel topped with mashed potatoes and gravy (and in this respect, he is clearly a descendent--albeit a Jewy one--of my British uncle who eats a daily lunch of something called a "Chip Butty," which is, yes, a French-fry sandwich. We always joke that we're going to start an Atkins substitute called the "Chip Butty Diet."). And Michael thinks that a microwaved plate of mashed potatoes with gravy is a perfectly acceptable meal. But me? Not so much. Maybe it's because they are so, so good fresh that I find their mealy reheatedness a poor approximation of their lush first-night perfection: my father puts himself in charge of them every year, and for every five pounds of potatoes, he adds a stick of butter and a half a pound of sour cream, and this is, I think, as good as it gets. "They could have used a little more sour cream," he announces, so utterly annually and predictably that you can mouth the words with him as soon as he puts fork to plate, but really, no. Perfection.

And so, my favorite leftover treatment is yet another family solution I grew up with: the fried mashed potato cake, which I have given a much fancier name in order to entice you with its fanciness. Of course, the fact that these are delicious is so obvious as to be almost tautological. What if you added grated cheese to something, then breaded it and fried it in butter and it was anything short of lip-smacking? That would be a more or less existential kind of crisis, for which there would be no solution. Oh, but these are crazy-good: the mashed potatoes go all molten inside their buttery-crisp Corn-Chex-crumb shell (breadcrumbs are perfectly fine too), and then they're laced with cheddar and just the tiniest tingling bite from the pickled jalapenos. Of course, you could swap in any other kind of cheese for the cheddar and omit the peppers if you like, and yes, of course, they will still be golden disks of spudly heaven--and also, then you can serve them with sour cream and applesauce and pretend you made them on purpose for Chanukkah.

Jalapeno-Cheddar Potato Fritters
Makes 8
Total time: 25 minutes

Don't feel hemmed in by needing leftover mashed potatoes for these: they are so good, IMHO, that it's actually worth steaming some potatoes to make them.

1 1/2 cups mashed potatoes (leftover or freshly mashed)
1/2 cup grated cheddar
1 tablespoon (or more) finely chopped pickled jalapenos
1 heaping cup Corn-Square-type cereal (e.g. Chex) or corn flakes (or 1 cup of breadcrumbs)
2 tablespoons each butter and vegetable oil
Sour cream and salsa for serving

In a bowl, stir together the mashed potatoes (heat them first in the microwave if they're cold), the cheese, and the jalapenos.

Put the cereal in a Ziploc bag and finely crush it with a rolling pin, then dump it onto a plate.

Now use a cookie scoop or a tablespoon to lift out giant, heaping tablespoons of the potato mixture, which you will roll into balls and then flatten into patties. Press the patties into the crumbs, coating each side well.

Heat the butter and oil over medium heat in a large, nonstick frying pan until a crumb sizzles if you drop it in. Fry the potato cakes, about three or 4 minutes per side, until they are deeply golden, flipping them very gently in the middle of cooking. Serve them piping hot with sour cream and salsa (we didn't have any salsa, actually, and didn't miss it).

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Jalapeno-Cheddar Potato Fritters

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by Catherine Newman

Catherine Newman cooks for the family

Dalai Mama Dishes

Catherine Newman cooks for the family

Jalapeno-Cheddar Potato Fritters

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