Listen. I know what I’m about to write means that I’m going to lose a lot of your trust. I understand. But I have to be honest with you.

Growing up, I never liked any potatoes that were not deep fried. In fact, I hated them. My tongue hated the taste, and eventually, my brain hated the texture.

At first, I was vocal about my disdain for potatoes, while still trying to be polite. I was the kind of child that was raised to eat what was on my plate, aside from these tubers, and so I would go to great lengths to soothe adults who may be offended by my potato hatred.

But usually, that would result in some version of, “well, you haven’t tried MY recipe yet,” and a second portion being plopped onto my plate. As a child with an overdeveloped respect for authority, I would follow what they told me and eat what I was given.

This happened repeatedly, until eventually one of the “MY” recipes offended my palate so much that I almost vomited on a friend’s dinner table. I ran out of the room as quickly as I could to rid myself of the offending bite, and then apologized deeply to my host, but the shame I felt as an eight-year-old has stuck with me to this day.

After that incident, the texture of the potatoes reminded me of the feeling of being sick, which made eating them even worse. I had to start standing my ground, which was uncomfortable to say the least. How would you feel if a 10-year-old told you they would not, in fact, be participating in the baked potato bar?

I took the direct approach to this until I was 16-years-old. I was on a mission trip to Peru, which is home to more than 2,000 varieties of potato, and we happened to be there during the National Potato Festival. And I didn’t know enough Spanish to explain myself to all of the home cooks and chefs who were celebrating. But I did know the word “alérgica,” which means “allergic.” And thus, the lies started.

Though it meant I sometimes missed out on waffle and curly fries, telling people I was allergic to potatoes often became an easy out for an otherwise complicated conversation. This spiraled into other potato cover-up stories.

Sometimes, I would pretend that the offending bowl didn’t exist, or that I hadn’t seen it, or that I was on a diet. Other times, I would move the potatoes around on my plate enough to convince others, and then just say that I was too full to finish them, but they were SO delicious. This was a hit with cooks who knew about my previous potato hatred, since it made them believe that they were the first ones to convert me to the joy of root vegetables.

It wasn’t until I was in college that I finally changed my mind on the subject of potatoes, when a friend of mine served a baked potato to me. I told her the tale of my potato hatred, lamenting my lot in life. And while I was talking, she took a bottle of ranch and a bottle of Chick-fil-a sauce out of the fridge and set them in front of her. She applied each liberally to one half of the potato, and then ate the thing with passion.

“Wait,” I said, as suddenly, a lightbulb turned on. “You can add whatever you want to a baked potato? Not just butter and cheese? Or sour cream and salt and pepper?”

The world had opened up to me.

I discovered that I could eat potatoes (well, baked potatoes– I still take issue with mashed potatoes) when they had unconventional ingredients on top of them. Anything that makes them taste more like a French fry and feel less like a mouthful of stomach bile is perfect in my book.

Since then, I’ve pulled potatoes out of the pantry at regular intervals to try new, fun combinations of ingredients on top.

This particular combination is perfect for a day when you don’t have a lot of energy, but want something hot and filling for you and your loved ones to enjoy. I’ve seen similar meals served as a “Super Spud” in restaurants, but this is my own take on it.

Let me know if you have any other potato topping suggestions, and I’ll do my best to try them. But tell me I have to mash the suckers, and I’ll tell you I’m allergic to your attitude.

SUPER SPUDS

Ingredients
4 russet potatoes
1/2 cup Mexican blend cheese
1/2 cup Monterey Jack cheese (or cheese of your choice)
3-4 slices of deli ham
3-4 slices of deli turkey
4 slices of bacon
1/4 cup butter
Salt and pepper, to taste
Sour cream, if desired
Chives, if desired

Directions
■ Clean potatoes. Poke holes with a fork on all sides for venting. Wrap in aluminum foil. Cook potatoes in oven at 400 degrees for one hour, until soft in the middle.
■ Once potatoes are cooked, slice open lengthwise. Dice up ham, turkey, bacon and butter to add to the top, followed by cheeses and salt and pepper. Return potatoes to 400 degree oven for about 5-10 minutes, or until the cheese is melted.
■ Remove from oven. Add sour cream, chives and any other desired toppings, and serve.

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