Has your waning sense of purpose ever been rescued by a new food? Saturday afternoon I fell in silly, head over heels love for Rostis: Big flat potato pancakes (like a latke rolled over by a MACK truck) accompanied by various dips and bits. My first Rosti, from a stand at the Farmers Market, came with a beet chutney and a tangy salad full of stewed tomatoes and maybe pumpkin.

The next day I had another one, topped a fresh crunchy salad, avocado, smoked salmon, a soft boiled egg, and crispy capers.
All those big mid-20s questions about life, all those early-John-Mayer-song-lyric-style crises can wait because I have a mission now: I’m going to learn how to make rostis. I’m going to make them classic style, then make them with sweet potatoes or celeriac or beet (which I don’t think will work, but damnit I’ll try!) I’m going to make that beet chutney—-I’m going to make sauces and pumpkin salads and fried shallots, which are like kitschy Thanksgiving fried onions except somehow more delicious.
I’ve got goals, people. Awesome, carb-y goals. Let me know if you want a rosti (or if you know how to make beet chutney).
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