Eggplant Parmesan: You're welcome, part 10.

Eggplant.

I looked it up to describe what it tastes like, and sadly I found an entire forum that likens it to 'barf.' This made me sad, because 1.) no one wants a barf-o-Rama and 2.) I'm on an eggplant kick these days. I enjoyed it for the first time at a delicious Italian joint in downtown Indianapolis, called Iaria's. Their eggplant Parmesan was so good, I don't think I would ever go back to chicken Parmesan.

To me, eggplant has a pretty similar taste and texture to zucchini. It takes on the flavor of whatever you're cooking with, but there is something about combining it with peppers and onions that makes it so flavorful.

So, here is my attempt at converting any anti-eggplanters out there. I ate this the day after I made it, and the flavor was really nice. I also used fresh basil from my freaking gigantic basil bush in our backyard. Ours looks like a tree. You could tie a hammock to it.

• 1 eggplant, peeled and sliced 1/2 inch thick
  
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 4 cups Italian seasoned bread crumbs
• 6 cups spaghetti sauce, divided
• 1 (16 ounce) package mozzarella cheese, shredded and divided
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
• 1/2 teaspoon dried basil
• 1 cup chopped green, red or yellow peppers and onions, your choice
• slat and ground black pepper for seasoning
  

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
2. Dip eggplant slices in egg, then in bread crumbs.
   
3. Use 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a heated skilled and cook eggplant until golden brown.
4. In a 9x13 inch baking dish spread spaghetti sauce to cover the bottom. Place a layer of eggplant slices in the sauce. Sprinkle with mozzarella and Parmesan cheeses. Repeat with remaining ingredients, ending with the cheeses. Sprinkle basil on top.
5. Bake in preheated oven for 10 minutes, or until golden brown.

These Shoes Suck

In an ode to my favorite youtube link, I write to you about a serious matter.

Growing up with ham hocks for feet never really bothered me as a kid, because I didn't care what I looked like (see profile pic). Pink moccasins with red corduroy pants were fine – more than fine, in fact. It was portrait-day worthy. I also recall spending a large portion of my middle school days wearing this fine pair of white, leather keds. They didn't have them in my size, so I think I romped around the playground in a loose-fitting size 11. Let's be honest, I spent the majority of my younger days wearing athletic shoes and eating small children, so it was never hard finding clodhoppers that fit my giant Hobbit feet.

As an adult, my quest to find remotely attractive shoes in the 10+ size range remains completely dehumanizing and fruitless. Last week's trip to TJMaxx only solidified these feelings. I always set myself up for failure when I start my search in the size 6 aisle. Mary janes, black leather stilettos, summer wedges, formal dress heels, ballerina flats, retro sneakers – you name it, they have it in size 6. The color selections are endless, the designer names are plentiful and they're always restocking the shelves with new pairs.

As I slowly approach the 10+ row (yes, they actually add a plus sign to the end of it, like you just fell off the growth chart of human possibility), you can almost hear the sound of elephants stampeding to find their aisle. It's like an island of misfit toys section of leftover fabric and plastic soles that could be salvaged into a Frankenstein shoe and other clearance items that have no hope to ever find a home.

This is my section. Pics above are not staged.

The options are limitless. It's either Grandma's closet or Raymond Babbitt, your choice. I choose suicide.

Fuck you, plus-sized shoes aisle. That is all.

Almond Danish Swirls: You're welcome, part 9.

Went on a camping vacay in beautiful Brown County State Park last week. Whenever we plan an outdoor adventure like this, I usually have these grandiose ideas about creating an entire menu of treats to bring along on the trip. Inevitably, I end up with hot dogs and granola bars in a cooler filled with beer and a suitcase containing one pair of underwear.*

This was no exception. I promised John I'd make brownies and create Cliff Huxtable-like hoagies for the trip. This never happened.

But, the beauty of this excursion was that it was only an hour or so away. Which meant we were in no hurry to leave. As we sat on the couch going over our itinerary, my personal hero and southern butter goddess, P'owla Dean, came on screen. I love her. Only P'owla can take the healthiest of foods, butter it, batter it, deep fry it and add cheese. No one else does it like her, y'all.

I happened to catch her recipe for Almond Danish Swirls, and just watching her pop one of those creamy lard balls into her little mouth at the end of the show was enough to make me say, 'dun and dun.' I made them while John packed the car, and they were so easy.

These were so incredibly delicious. We ate the entire batch in 24 hours.

*I didn't actually pack just underwear, but I know someone who packed one pair of tighty whities for an entire family vacation. You know who you are. Own it.

6 ounces cream cheese, softened
1 teaspoon almond extract
1/2 cup confectioners' sugar
1/2 cup slivered almonds, chopped fine
2 (8-ounce) cans refrigerated crescent dinner rolls
1 egg white
1 teaspoon water

Glaze
1/2 cup confectioners' sugar
4 teaspoons milk
1/2 teaspoon almond extract

In a small bowl, beat the cream cheese, almond extract, and sugar until fluffy. Fold half of the chopped almonds into the cream cheese mixture. Separate 1 can of dough and assemble into 4 rectangles. Firmly press the perforations to seal. Press or roll each piece of dough to form a 7 by 4-inch rectangle, and spread each with about 2 tablespoons of the cream cheese filling to within 1/4-inch of the edges. Starting at the short end, roll each rectangle tightly into a cylinder. Repeat with the other can of dough and remaining filling. Place on a plate, cover with plastic wrap, and chill until firm, about 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees while the rolls are chilling.

Remove from the refrigerator and cut each roll into 4 slices. Place 1/2-inch apart on ungreased baking sheets. In a small bowl, combine the egg white with 1 teaspoon water. Brush over the swirls. Sprinkle with the remaining chopped almonds. Bake for 18 to 20 minutes, until light brown.

While the swirls are baking, combine the glaze ingredients in a small bowl. Cool the swirls for 3 minutes on wire racks placed over a sheet of waxed paper. Drizzle the icing over the warm swirls.

Precious!!!!!

For Pete's sake. Call the marriage off. We're dun.

If you know me, you know that I lose everything. When I graduated from high school, my friends bought me one of those janitor keychains that clip to your side and has a retractable cord. This way, I could have my keys attached to my body at all times and still continue to be undesirable to men throughout college. Whether I was sleeping, driving, brushing my teeth, you name it – keys were still findable . They were plastered to my hip. I think the keychain eventually broke, but I didn't lose my keys for at least a year. It didn't matter though – I was busy losing other things. My purse, my cell phone, clothes, jackets, shoes, my virginity.

Time has allowed me to overcome this disease. I no longer lose things.

I misplace them for less than a day.

John would call B.S. on this statement, except for one simple fact. He lost his wedding ring on Friday, therefore making his opinion null and void in the state of Indiana. He was golfing at an outing in Kentucky, and decided to put the sacred sacrament of our holy union in his pocket for safekeeping. By the end of the day, he realized that ... his precious was gone.

He called on his way home from the tourney, and delicately mentioned he hit a 30 yard putt and
his wedding ring was lost forever. Thankfully, he asked one of the greenskeepers to keep an eye out for a small, white gold ring on the 18-hole golf course. I'm sure they'll find it.

Although I spared him the guilt trip initially, it is now the greatest weapon in my satchel. Throughout the evening, I dropped, 'and you lost your wedding ring' at least a dozen times into conversation.

Happy seven month anniversary. That is all.

Keeping Diabetes Alive Since 1965

We crave sustenance!


Once it hits your lips ...





It's time to put a little chunk in your swagger.

If you live in the great city of Indianapolis, you're probably familiar with a little thing we like to call the Strawberry Festival. Once a year, thousands of people make the lunchtime pilgrimage to Monument Circle and celebrate diabetes and strawberries. I love diabetes, so I'm in. If you need more persuasion, I'm sure this rousing video of Dick Lugar is just what the doctor order to get your ass down to the Circle and lather your body in vats of stewed strawberry chunks.

I look forward to this event every year, mostly because it's fun to watch little kids eat strawberry shortcake the same way I do – like a filthy little hog. Two years ago, I waited in line for almost an hour to get my little mound of heaven, and when I finally had the chance to take a bite, I spilled the entire thing down the front of my shirt. Because that's what I do. I spill things.

To be honest, I really don't even eat the strawberries – I use my fork to push aside the only healthy thing in the damn dessert and suck down the ice cream, whipped topping and shortcake that's been saturated in strawberry juices.

Happy hogging!

Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in space.

En route to Chicago.

The newest addition to the family, Shay, meets Eleanore.

It's always an unsuspecting moment. You're in the midst of some mundane task, thinking about how your stomach is growling or that you need to pick up milk from the grocery store. Nothing seems significant about your day. And there it is – an unexpected dose of reality. Sitting in my inbox.

Subject line: Aunt Eleanore

Tried calling your cell but it’s going straight to voicemail
since you’re working.

Aunt Eleanore peacefully died at 1 in the morning. Funeral is Monday.

Aunt Eleanore was a force to be reckoned with. Stoic. Brassy. Fiercely Irish. It's who she was ... is ... will always be in my mind.

As I sat in the plane bound for Chicago a couple days later, my thoughts drifted in and out. I started to think about how strange and yet oddly fascinating funerals are. Here you are in this room filled with a bunch people somehow connected to some facet of this person's life. Mothers, husbands, cousins, babies, friends, siblings, neighbors, coworkers ... They all come out to pay homage to this person's life.

Then suddenly, I felt this great sadness consume me. Eleanore was the last one standing in a line of great women in my family to grow up first generation American. She was the last living relative who watched my grandmother grow up. The last one to keep the memories of relatives come and gone, alive in our heritage. With her passing came the end of an entire generation of family history.

I will always be thankful for the stories my Aunt Eleanore shared with me about her life this past summer. Even though she had lost her eyesight long ago, I would watch as her beautiful blue eyes lit up to recall the stories of our family.

Here's to you, Eleanore.

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

Tomato Basil Pasta Salad WITH classy cheese. You're welcome, part 8.

I whipped this up for some friends last week, and it reminded me of a special tip I wanted to share. I've learned that adding pine nuts and goat cheese to any recipe makes people think you are sophisticated. We all know this is not true about me; I have the sophistication of a chimp. I laugh when my dog lets out wet, squeaker farts on the floor. I drink milk from the carton. I have a propensity to run into things on my bike. I watch the Real Housewives of Orange County, New York and soon-to-be New Jersey (I draw the line at Atlanta, because like I said, I have class).

Classy lady. That's me. Well, not really. But pine nuts would make you believe otherwise, apparently.

I'll give you a couple scenarios:
You could have a grilled cheese sandwich OR bread with olive oil, melted goat cheese AND pine nuts. Positively reeks of mahogany and Equestrian riding.

A salad with veggies, lettuce, American cheese and croutons OR veggies, lettuce, the cheese of a GOAT and pine nuts. Care for a spin on the Yacht, anyone?

I cannot explain this phenomenon, but it will make your guests believe you are rich and cultured every time. Enjoy.


3 Roma tomatoes, diced

cubed or crumbled goat cheese or mozzarella

1/2 cup (or more) Sun-Dried Tomato Dressing

1/2 cup chopped fresh basil

1 pkg. (16 oz.) miniature bow-tie pasta

1/2 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted
Parmesan cheese for flavor

TOSS tomatoes with cream cheese, dressing and basil; cover. Refrigerate at least 2 hours.

COOK pasta as directed on package; drain. Place in large bowl.

ADD tomato mixture and pine nuts; toss lightly.

Cheddar Apple Pie Dip. You're Welcome, part 7.

Nummies.

Do you have this? Get one, fool.

Milk fat, mixed with creaminess, mixed with cheesy fats.

Just before going into the oven, spread the apples onto the dairy goodness.

I can't say that I really like bridal or baby showers. In fact, they embody just about every one of my phobias — enclosed spaces, obligatory small chat, shower 'games' (the sort of horrifying games that you read about in The Feminine Mystique), herds of people I don't know, 'Ooooo's' and 'Ahhhh's' when opening gifts, and all-round, full-blown awkwardness. They commonly occur on Sundays, which is a sacred day of pajama-wearing nothingness in our household. I really have to like you to sacrifice my cereal-eating, shut-in Sundays, but whatever. I'll shove a dirty sock in my mouth and act like I care.

Aside from the good friends, here is one thing I like about showers, though. The food. A shower host typically whips up an impressive batch of color-coordinated appetizers and finger foods worth enduring those 'games' I mentioned earlier. You know, the ones where you pass around diapers filled with hee-larious* chunks of chocolate poopy and try to guess the flavor, or have a race to see who can make a wedding dress out of tee-pee the fastest? Those ones. Anyway, back to the food.

Someone always ends up making a dish that I absolutely love, and hope to make in the future. The best recipe I've found in a long time is this one, thanks to Shelly. Something about apples, cinnamon and cheese is a perfect combination of sweet and savory. The first time I tried the dip, it was like holding a pickle up to a pregnant lady — you might lose a finger. If no one else was present, I probably would have been found on the floor, cleaning the bowl with my face.

But this was a shower, and ladies don't do that sort of thing at showers.

Enjoy.

1/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 each: red and green apple, finely chopped (about 2 cups) --- I used those already cut apples and just cut them into smaller pieces, that way my kids were still able to enjoy the leftovers!
1/2 cup Planters Walnut pieces (I did not include this in my recipe, but didn't want to leave it out for people that like nuts)
1 pkg cream cheese - softened
1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1/2 cup sour cream
Wheat Thins (I used the cinnamon ones)

Preheat over to 375. Combine brown sugar and cinnamon in a bowl. Add apples (and walnuts if you choose); toss until evenly coated.

Mix cream cheese and cheddar cheese in a medium bowl. Add sour cream; stir until well blended. Spread into 9-inch pie plate and top with apple mixture.

Bake 20 minutes or until heated through.

*not true
Side note: I took pictures of everything but the finished product, so that is a generic photo from Kraft at the top of the page.

All Hail the Bratwurst.

I can tell by the smell of pork fat and beer in the air. It's almost summertime. Bratwurst has been a part of my diet since younghood. I grew up in Chicago, and you eat lots of brats in this special city.

John and I have been trying out a local company called Farm Fresh Delivery, and we've really enjoyed it. It's an online home delivery service that provides organic produce and natural groceries to its members. Basically, you get this green bin for your porch, and these magical produce gnomes deliver fresh, (mostly) local organic produce and groceries. It's $35 and we have stuff delivered every other week. The brats included in our latest delivery were from Moody Meats, located in Avon. They are the best brats I've ever made at home — very smooth in texture with a really mellow flavor. I'm used to buying prepackaged ones at the grocery store that taste like this, so I won't be going back.

Anyway, this is a slightly altered Bobby Flay recipe for beer brats.

• 4 brats
• Beer, to cover
• 1 medium large sweet onion
• 2 ounces (1/2 stick) butter

Directions

Place brats in an iron skillet with onions and butter, cover the brats with beer. Bring to a boil and reduce to simmer until brats are cooked. Remove brats and set aside beer mixture. Grill brats until golden brown and return to beer mixture until ready to serve. Serve brats on fresh baked brat buns with sauerkraut, onions, green peppers, ketchup, and/or mustard.

The Work Kitchen

We all know it well. For some, it's the place known to inspire heated love sonnets written on Passive Aggressive Notes. Like this little gem. People fuming over the Lean Cuisine left in the mini fridge since Christmas 2005. Disdain for those who insist on letting their coffee mug soak in the communal sink for three weeks before washing. Coworkers who decide their lunch sucks ass, but yours sure looks tasty.

Our kitchen isn't like that. Yeah, we have the occasional offender that needs a little shaken baby action, but for the most part, it's harmonious love and canoodling in the Marketing and PR kitchen suite. One dedicated employee always fills our ice bucket for all to enjoy. The sink is crust-free. Even though coffee was sadly cut from the budget, the machine is now filled with premium exotic flavors that people have brought from home. And the food people bring in ... forget about it.

I guess it's probably the downfall of our department, but we're food whores. Pitch-ins that could feed an army and bring strangers out of the woodwork from every department. Leftover birthday cakes, breakfast casseroles, boxes of yeast donuts with icing from Long's Bakery, homemade cinnamon rolls, hand-churned ice cream (the dude even wore seersucker pants that day, swear to Jesus), birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, BOOM (That sound was my ass getting fat).

This is the latest treat to grace our kitchen. My boss makes food to share at least once a week. The worst part is ... she is a complete health nut and usually won't even touch the stuff she brings in. I know, it positively reeks of sabotage — until you meet her. The woman is made of gold. She even sneaks healthy substitutions into all of her recipes to make her food guilt-free.

Anyway, this cake brought back sentimental memories for me, as it is a recipe I've fondly known to be called, Yummy Bunny Cake. My dad and I used to make it on Easter weekends together. Except our cake was covered in coconut and used jelly beans for flair. Here is the recipe:

• 1 package (any type) of cake mix (plus the ingredients necessary to make that cake)
• 2 cans pre-made vanilla frosting
• 1 14-oz. package of coconut (about 5 cups)
• food coloring
• small candy pieces for decorating the cake (gum drops, jelly beans, licorice, chocolate chips, etc.)

Directions:

• Prepare cake mix as directed and pour into two 8- or 9-inch round cake pans. Bake cakes according to package directions. Cool completely.
• Cut cake as show in diagram.
• Line large tray or sturdy cardboard with foil.
• Frost sides of each cake piece.
• Place pieces of cake as shown in diagram on foil-lined tray.
• Frost top of cake.
• Sprinkle about 2 ¾ cup coconut over top and sides of cake, lightly pressing coconut onto the sides
• In a small bowl combine ¾ cup coconut with two – three drops red food coloring and toss until evenly colored. Place aside. Repeat with 1 ½ cups coconut and two – three drops green food coloring.
• Sprinkle pink coconut over ears and bowtie; outline with chocolate chips
• Decorate bunny face with other candy pieces using small slices of licorice for whiskers
• Sprinkle green coconut on foil-lined tray around cake. Place additional candies on the green “grass” if desired. You can also make the bunny’s bow tie a different color if desired.

The library. Who knew?

OK, I'll admit — it's been a long time since I've been to the library. About 10 years to be exact. Since moving downtown, I've been able to see the excitement build as the St. Clair branch was so elegantly reconstructed. But, something has kept me from entering those doors. Maybe I still have this stigma that the library is for late night research projects that suck my brain of any will to live? Perhaps.

All I can really say is ... what was I waiting for? The place is an absolute gem. I was inspired to go after receiving a New York Times article about a site called ArtBabble.com — . It is basically a dedicated place on the Web for art videos, and I must have spent at least an hour and a half perusing videos while I was there. Did I mention the site was created by the IMA? What a great plug for our city.

The video that sucked me in was this one, which asks the question, 'What happens when five artists come to one of the world's largest libraries in search of inspiration for their next project?' I always have a hard time finding a creative outlet, and the library is not the first place I would have considered. But, the more I thought about it, why wouldn't it be? Their collections are vast and span over a hundred years of knowledge and culture. Not to mention it's all under one roof ... one grand, aesthetically pleasing roof.

The first hour was spent refamiliarizing myself with how it all works. Wait, how do I look up a book? And where do I find it again? Where is the business section?

Then, I began to 'Ooo' and 'Ahhh.' From the coffee house to the skyline views to the vast entertainment section, it was all there. Every magazine you could think of, an entire DVD collection and a whole floor dedicated to workshops and community forums. And music. Good music.

So, what did I end up checking out? Books. Yep, it was back to basics for me as I perused row upon row of information in the form of paper-bound words. I came to research starting your own business, and boy did I hit the mother load. An entire aisle was dedicated to the likes of me — creative, female twenty-something seeks guidance to open her own online photography business. Kind of specific, I know, but there were at least two books that begged me to pull them off the shelf and devour their knowledge, one of which I will mention.

The Boss of You, by Lauren Bacon & Emira Mears
For any female (or nerdy-cool male hipster) looking to start up a business, this book has a forthcoming, honest, coming-to-Jesus sort of talk with you, and I love it. It's totally conversational and even gives you little pep talks in parts of the book when they know a reader is thinking about bailing on the chapter. I should also admit that their head shots on the back had some influence on me. Any redhead who boldly dyes their bangs Gwen Stefani pink has my admiration from the get-go.

All in all, the library visit was a huge success. I'd say my favorite part was the self-checkout. You scan the books yourself and slide the little due date slip in the familiar manilla holder in the back. I only wish it still included the old-timey date stamps of previous readers who enjoyed the confines of a book. It always made it feel special when you know you've found something treasured by so many.

I have three weeks of inspiration. Thanks, IMCPL.

Different strokes. A blog about John.

John and his ketchup. Someone must put a stop to this condiment abuse.

All the major food groups. Tators, cheese, garlic.

He loves the iron skillet. I just think it looks decorative.




John made some breakfast a couple weekends ago that made my mouth feel real prettylike. It was simple and delish. Hand-sliced potato hash browns with folded eggs and cheddar cheese.

I've found that our style of prepping is what makes us so different in the kitchen. While I love efficiency and order, John prefers to keep it old-timey and embraces the process. While I like to pre-measure, use electric gadgets and line everything up in small, white vessels, John has a more organic approach to cooking. He casually chops everything by hand, mixes ingredients with wooden spoons in handmade bowls and taps his foot to what's playing on the radio. Heck, he really doesn't even use a recipe much anymore. It wouldn't be any fun if you had to follow someone else's rules. To him, at least.

I thrive on staying between the lines. I'm a creature of habit – give me instructions and I will try my hardest never to stray. Cooking for me takes an hour just to find the best version of the recipe I want to make. If I can find a dish that has already been tweaked, tested and proven delicious, it takes all the guessing out of the equation. It's methodical and meticulous, but I prefer organized chaos.

Suddenly I realized that our philisophies in the kitchen absolutely translate into the way we lead our lives. He has a way of making everything seem so simple, spontaneous and so damn fun. And, everything I do in my life takes hours of preparation, research and thought - until it inevitably maddens me. I forget what I was working on, because I get too fixated on the details. But John always helps me to see the big picture.

I love that jackass. And his breakfast.

Strawberry Cinammon French Toast. You're welcome, part 6

Cooking is serious business in the Davidson kitchen. It usually involves a business-like meeting to discuss the menu, a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who has to go to the store, alcohol and the precision of a drunken sailor. Many of our attempts at cooking deserve the Darwin Award, and I promise to start showcasing some of our recipe flops on the blog. There are plenty to choose from. Like the time I made strawberry cheesecake for a work pitch-in. My roommate tested a piece of leftover strawberry, and gently reminded me not to use the same cutting board onions were cut on the day prior.

Last night, John and I were making pecan tassies (I swear he's straight), and both managed to completely screw up the recipe, even though the cook book was right in front of us. I threw a stick of butter in, and later noticed it called for one pad of butter. As John mocked me, he almost threw in a teaspoon of almond extract instead of vanilla. I also drooled on myself while preparing the crusts. Full-on drooled all over my shirt. I have no explanation for this.

That being said, french toast is pretty fool proof. Here is the recipe. Hold the drool.

• 3 eggs
• 1/2 cup heavy whipping cream
• 2 teaspoons orange liqueur, optional if you prefer bland french toast
• 3 tablespoons cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
  
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 8 thick slices bread - I recommend sliced french bread
  
• Whipped topping
• Powdered sugar
  

In a shallow bowl, whisk together eggs, milk, liqueur, cinnamon, nutmeg and sugar. Coat each slice of bread on both sides with egg mixture. Place coated bread slices on hot buttered skillet. Cook until golden brown on both sides.

To serve, place 1 piece of French toast on plate. I use a small sifter and tap powdered sugar onto the french toast slices. Top with strawberries and whipped topping. Add another slice of French toast and repeat.

Enjoy.

Garlic Mashed Potatoes. You're Welcome, part 5

Everyone likes mashed potatoes. This is a modified version of Alton Brown's recipe. Some people swear by a manual hand masher, but I can think of better ways to waste my time than using an obsolete kitchen gadget that cramps my hand up. Use beaters, people.

• 1 lb yukon gold potatoes
• 1/2 cup half-and-half, because skim milk is useless
  
• 3 tablespoons butter
  
• 3 cloves garlic, crushed
• 2 tablespoons kosher salt
• 3 ounces grated Parmesan
• a handful of sliced green onion
  

Peel and dice potatoes, making sure all are relatively the same size. Place in a large saucepan and cover with water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and then reduce heat to maintain a rolling boil. Cook until potatoes fall apart when poked with a fork.

Heat the half-and-half and the garlic in a medium saucepan over medium heat until simmering. Remove from heat and set aside.

Remove the potatoes from the heat and drain off the water. Mash and add the garlic-cream mixture, butter, salt, and Parmesan; stir to combine. Let stand for 5 minutes so that mixture thickens and then serve.