Dijon Purple Peruvian Potatoes

(warning: this one is long, but it's some of the material I'm practicing with...thanks for tuning in!!)

I had the opportunity to go out to dinner last week to reacquaint myself with local Texas fare and old friends. The venue we chose was full of a hustle and bustle that kept an easy pace with the boisterous chatter which bubbled up from surrounding tables. A jolly older gentleman was quick to our service and quick to excitedly inform our group about the menu. It wasn't until he launched into a monologue gushing over the once in-a-lifetime deliciousness of the Wild Alaskan Salmon served over Dijon Purple Peruvian Potatoes, the daily special, that I realized we may not be in Texas anymore.

Since when was Texas floating off the coast of Alaska. It’s dinner. Where is the beef? If that wasn’t strange enough, they were serving Dijon Purple Peruvian Potatoes. First of all, by definition Texas cuisine is not purple. I would also say that although a select few folks may be able to locate Peru on the map, their potatoes certainly weren’t fit for grandma’s potato salad or mom’s mashed potatoes. And what’s up with Dijon mustard? Isn’t that for those frenchy kind of people? What international fare was this? Certainly, it didn’t classify as local. So what the waiter could possibly be raving about, almost to the point of convulsions, was a curious thing indeed.

Though my interest was definitely peaked, I’ll be honest and tell you that I stuck with the beef. After many months of beef done up Argentine style, I was ready to return home so to speak. My friend’s wife took the plunge for all of us though. And twenty to twenty-five minutes later we were finally introduced to Wild Alaskan Salmon served over Dijon Purple Peruvian Potatoes.

We marveled over the sight of the Peruvian’s perfectly preened purple potatoes that had been whipped into a creamy state and effortlessly cradled two pieces of Alaska’s freshest salmon. After a moment of much deserved silence for what lay in front of us, we primed our weapons. By pure instinct all our forks lit into the potatoes first. Ohhhh…hummm… not what anyone was expecting, plain to be honest. Compared to my friend’s traditional buttery mound of lightly salted melt in your mouth piece of mash potato heaven, the purple stuff seemed less than impressive. The salmon was very nicely grilled though, and tasted as fresh and pristine as the advertisement suggested. Overall, however, the group was left a bit disappointed with the dish.

It’s only two weeks later, after repeated purple potato hauntings, that I now see brilliance. Maybe it has something to do with the catchy name that twists the tongue or the energy of the waiter that night, but I think it’s more. In a culture of big flavors, beef and the grab-you-by-the-yum-yum-and-leave-you-begging-for-more dishes we can serve up in Texas, this was subtle on all accounts. That subtlety though has left me ruminating, interested, and driven me to the point of a one page essay on the subject. I’m reminded that the hallmark of class is often tasteful simplicity and understatement is often the most alluring form of temptation. Truly, it was a once in-a-lifetime Wild Alaskan Salmon served over Dijon Purple Peruvian Potatoes delicious brilliance. Thank you Kent Rathburn for making it all possible.