Y’all, let me tell you something: in the South, if the mashed potatoes aren’t right, the whole Thanksgiving meal, Christmas Dinner or matter of fact, any gathering might as well go straight into the trash. I don’t care how good the turkey or pie is—mashed potatoes are the backbone of the meal. We learned that lesson the hard way a few years ago, thanks to Cousin Mary Beth.
The Mashed Potato Disaster of Years Past
One year, Cousin Mary Beth, Aunt Louise’s daughter and the family debutant, volunteered to make the mashed potatoes. Bless her heart, she tried, but what she brought wasn’t mashed potatoes—it was glue. Heavy, sticky, lumpy glue. It was like eating a bowl of wallpaper paste. Uncle Harold muttered, “You could patch drywall with this stuff.” Nobody dared go back for seconds, and Cousin Mary Beth swore she’d never make mashed potatoes again.
After that fiasco, Aunt Betty Lou’s daughter, Sissy, stepped up and said she’d handle the mashed potatoes moving forward. She had a reputation for being a decent cook, so we figured, why not?
Cousin Sissy Saves the Day
Let me tell you, Sissy delivered. The first year she made the mashed potatoes, they were light and fluffy, with just the right amount of butter, salt, and pepper. She even sprinkled a little fresh parsley on top to make it look fancy. It was perfection, y’all. Folks were singing her praises between bites, and Cousin Ricky went back for thirds. After that, the mashed potato job officially belonged to Sissy.
This Year’s Miracle
This year, after the deviled egg disaster, the pear salad predicament, and the macaroni and cheese letdown, I was starting to lose hope. But then came the mashed potatoes. When Sissy brought them out, I swear the heavens opened, and a choir of angels started singing.
She revealed her secret: a mix of Yukon Gold potatoes (or as she called them, “yacon”) and russets, whipped together with half-and-half and an ungodly amount of butter. Y’all, these mashed potatoes were so creamy and smooth, they practically melted in your mouth. They were light as air—like eating a fluffy Southern cloud. Perfect Mashed PotatoesUncle Harold always knew how to stir up a little trouble at the dinner table. After his first bite of these mashed potatoes, he declared them “the best dang mashed potatoes this side of the Mississippi ” Now, I’ll tell you the truth—he didn’t say “dang.” Oh no. He used the other D-word, the one Grandma wouldn’t have allowed to echo through her house under any circumstances.
Uncle Harold said it anyway, and, to this day, Grandma still has cotton in her ears trying to block out the memory. Before she could finish waving that wooden spoon in his direction, he grinned, licked his fork, and dared to say it again. Grandma swore she’d wash his mouth out with soap right then and there—and I don’t doubt she would’ve if we hadn’t begged her to sit back down.
So, in honor of Grandma, I’m calling these the “Best Dang Mashed Potatoes.” And yes, Uncle Harold, we all know what you really said and trust me, cousin Sissy should feel real about herself, because that man doesn’t compliment much.
The Great Mashed Potato Heist
Now, you’d think with all that praise, folks would eat their fair share and move on, but no. There was almost a brawl over the mashed potatoes. Cousin Ricky was on his third helping when Uncle Buck tried to grab the bowl. Cousin Ricky snatched it back like he was guarding gold. “I’ll share the sweet tea, but I’m not sharing the potatoes,” he said. It got so heated, Aunt Betty Lou had to step in and remind them it was Thanksgiving, not WrestleMania.
By the time the dust settled, I barely got a spoonful. Next year, Sissy said she’s doubling the recipe, and I told her she might want to triple it.
The Saving Grace
So, while the deviled eggs, pear salad, and macaroni and cheese left us disappointed, Sissy’s mashed potatoes saved the day. They were the glue (not the lumpy kind) that held the meal together. If there’s one thing we learned this year, it’s this: Sissy better keep her spot on mashed potato duty, because nobody else can do it like her.
Here’s to mashed potatoes, the real MVP of Thanksgiving! And to Sissy, bless her, for giving us a miracle when we needed it most.
Oh and if you haven’t heard about last year’s Macaroni & Cheese Catastrophe, you can read about it right here.
Spillin’ the Sweet Tea: Southern Fried Drama-The Macaroni and Cheese Catastrophe
Be sure to check out Cousin Sissy’s recipe for the Best Dang Mashed Potatoes!
Perfect Mashed Potatoes
Stay tuned! I’ll be back soon with more Southern fried drama from the Honeycutt family.
For more Southern recipes and a taste of Southern culture, check out my cookbook “Deliciously Southern: Southern Recipes and a Tour of the South.”
Click here to purchase an autographed copy 
