“A Child’s Recipe for Comfort” by Angela Kasumova

Baked Potato

Description: The perfect side to any meal; the best medicine when recovering from an illness.

Preparation: Board Daddy’s car— a Chevy Blazer or wood-paneled station wagon depending on the day— drive to a restaurant, enjoy this rare time as a family of four.

Number of Servings: 1

Ingredients:

  • 1 baked potato
  • Butter*
  • Fatherly love

*Preference given to salted butter. Two gold-wrapped squares are the perfect amount. If you’re at the special restaurant Daddy takes you to on his rare weekday breaks from dealing used cars and trading stocks to get his hair cut in Arlington, the butter will be freshly whipped.

Nothing beats that.

If home sick with one of many repeat illnesses impacting body and mind between first and fourth grade, unsalted butter will suffice.

NO SOUR CREAM.

Directions: If in a restaurant, ask for a baked potato and wait for its arrival, approximately thirty minutes. Listen for the words Daddy uses to describe his week: stunata, statazit, minchia, coglione. Laugh when you hear them, even if you don’t know what they mean.

When the potato comes inhale the starchy steam and pass your plate, along with the butter, to Daddy. He will butter it to the just right fluffiness and pass it back to you. Lightly blow and take a quick bite before the butter completely melts.

That’s when it tastes the best.

After a few minutes you may send it back to Daddy for additional butter, though it’s not quite the same when it’s cooled.

If home sick, ask for a baked potato. Daddy will bring one home from a restaurant or Mommy will bake one (approximately sixty minutes). Move from the couch to the dining room table.

You won’t eat much if Mommy butters the potato, so Daddy will stop home between work errands to present the special spud. Though he won’t stay— because work always calls— his brief presence is enough.

Take small bites of potato; feel the warmth filling your insides each time you swallow.

Nutrition: Complete sustenance, at least for a moment.

Notes: Only Daddy can butter the potato. It doesn’t taste right if anyone else does it.

Also, please be sure to savor each bite. Just as butter melts quickly and potatoes lose steam, a cold conversation in Daddy’s green Camaro one snowy afternoon may trigger the fracture of your bond.

Next thing you know, he’s gone.


Angela Kasumova is an emerging writer with over a decade of professional experience working in the fields of mental health and education. Her writing has previously appeared in The Bluebird Word. She lives with her husband and sons in Andover, Massachusetts.