Having cooked all the recipes from the first Thug Kitchen cookbook within a year I decided to move on to the other recipes. Today it’s book 2 Party Grub.
Life is too short for guilt trippin’ over what we eat. The Thugs have got our backs once again with these baked, not fried, potato leek cakes. So you can eat them with a clear conscience, and even double up on the sauce. Focus your guilt on other things, or better yet, ditch that asshole altogether. Guilt is the party pooper that no one invites to the party anymore. Block him from your social media and move on.
You can find these delicious potato leek motherfuckers on page 20 of the Party Grub book.
They were so easy to make, it’s ridonkulous. You could grate the potatoes with one hand and gab with your friend on the phone with the other. Just don’t get too distracted by the outrageous gossip coming your way and forget to mash the beans like I did. Retro-mashing isn’t as easy as doing it properly from the start. Trust me. I tried with a fork, but all the grated potato kept getting in my way. In the end I threw my hands in the bowl with reckless abandon and squashed them manually.
Save your time and mash them BEFORE you throw them in the bowl with the other shit. Just. Like. The. Recipe. Had. Told. Me. To. Rule one of Thug Kitchen: Read the recipe.
But deciding to move on and throw guilt under the bus like he fucking deserves, I shrugged and carried on. I heard him scream out in pain, but once I got the food processor running to make the sauce, all other sounds were drowned out. He might’ve whimpered. Who knows? All I could hear was the sound of sauce nearing delicious completion. And Oh My Fucking Lizard King, that sauce was creamy. Almost couldn’t believe it was dairy free. Wow.
I was ready to throw stuff in the oven.
There’s nothing I love better than an empty baking tray. It’s like a blank canvas teeming with endless possibilities. Anything can happen at this point – a beautiful creation, or a blackened cremation.
Once the cakes were out and the sauce perfected, we sat down to eat.
Do yourself a favour. Double batch these. You’ll want loads. They’re so good, especially the crunchy edges. But the sauce…It was just otherwordly. So creamy. And no cows were swinging their udders around unnecessarily to make this sauce. (Does that also conjure images of cows swinging kinky nipple tastles around for you? Or is that just my own brand of twisted imagination?)
These make an excellent hangover cure by the way. Stick them on a tray and serve them to your puking-“I’m-never-gonna-drink-again”-loved ones to show them how much you care.
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