Good Houskeeping Week 2 - A Potato Too Many and the Case for the Double Boiler

Week two arrived with confidence. Possibly misplaced confidence.

Same book. Same Susan section. Same belief that by now I had a decent handle on what four potatoes looked like in real life. I did not. Once again, I produced more potato than the recipe had any intention of accommodating. One full, perfectly sliced potato sat on the counter like an uninvited guest.

Out here, excess doesn’t linger. The Forrester creatures, those ever-watchful trash pandas of the woods, were thrilled with their unexpected side dish. Somewhere in the trees, a raccoon ate better than planned, which feels aligned with the spirit of a cookbook that assumes adults will quietly handle the consequences of their own math.

The real comedy, however, happened at the stove.

The recipe offers a casual fork in the road: double boiler or saucepan. As if this were a lifestyle choice. We chose the saucepan, largely out of optimism and a misplaced belief in our ability to multitask. The sauce had other ideas. It thickened fast. Aggressively. With purpose. By the time it was ready, dividing it neatly into thirds felt less like cooking and more like trying to reason with cement.

This is when the wisdom of the double boiler revealed itself. Gentler heat isn’t about being precious. It’s about not being bullied by dairy. Next week’s recipe mandates the double boiler, and now I understand why. It’s not optional. It’s self-defense.

Then there was the parsley.

If you are picturing scalloped potatoes as pale, creamy, and comforting, abandon that thought immediately. This dish emerged speckled, green, and unapologetic. The parsley did not sprinkle. It committed. The result looked like no scalloped potatoes I had ever seen, which made me briefly question whether I had followed the instructions or accidentally wandered into an herb-forward philosophical statement.

Fortunately, it tasted excellent.

It was rich, structured, deeply savory, and unmistakably deliberate. It was also just a little too salty. Not ruinous, but present. If I were to do it again, I’d reduce the salt to two teaspoons and call it wisdom rather than deviation.

What matters is that nothing went wrong in a way that felt bad. Every miscalculation taught something useful. Potatoes demand respect. Sauce demands patience. Heat matters. Instructions are not suggestions. And raccoons are always watching.

The finished dish looked exactly like the process that produced it. Slightly uneven. Firm where it needed to be. Green in a way that suggested confidence rather than garnish. It didn’t try to charm anyone. It simply showed up and did its job.

Which, it turns out, is the entire lesson of Susan’s section.

Scalloped Potatoes

From the Susan section, 1963 edition of The New Good Housekeeping Cookbook

Ingredients

  • 2 tablespoons snipped parsley

  • 1½ cups thinly sliced onions

  • 4½ cups thinly sliced pared white potatoes

  • 3 teaspoons salt

  • 3 tablespoons butter or margarine

  • 7 teaspoons flour

  • ⅛ teaspoon pepper

  • ⅛ teaspoon paprika

  • 1¾ cups milk

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400°F. Bring 1 quart water to a boil in a covered saucepan. Grease a 1½-quart casserole. Prepare parsley, onions, and potatoes.

  2. Add onions and potatoes to boiling water along with 2 teaspoons of the salt. Boil, covered, for 5 minutes. Drain.

  3. Meanwhile, in a double boiler or skillet over very low heat, melt butter. Stir in flour, remaining 1 teaspoon salt, pepper, and paprika. Gradually stir in milk. Cook, stirring constantly, until smooth and thickened.

  4. Arrange one third of the potatoes and onions in the casserole. Sprinkle with half the parsley and pour on one third of the sauce. Repeat with another third of the potatoes and onions, the remaining parsley, and half of the remaining sauce. Add the rest of the potatoes and top with the remaining sauce.

  5. Bake uncovered for 35 minutes, or until tender and lightly browned.

Makes 4 to 5 servings, plus one potato for the wildlife, apparently.

Location: Eden, MD, USA

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