After last weeks monumental failure where my plate of hash browns ended up in the trash, I did what every normal mature adult would do under the duress of failure and started finger pointing. Blaming everything in sight:
- Denver’s high altitude somehow affecting potato chemistry
- My elderly box grater
- My cat who sat on the window sill staring at me during the whole process
- Even though newly purchased, getting a bad batch of Crisco
- And of course any blaming session wouldn’t be complete without including the husband
