Today was Dad’s birthday, so I thought of him often throughout the day, especially when I was in the kitchen cooking. Even though Mom did much of the cooking when I was growing up, Dad certainly wasn’t a stranger in the kitchen. I remember his spaghetti sauce, which, I swear, would simmer in a skillet on the back burner of the stove for hours. He would check on it every now and then by dipping a spoon into it and tasting it, adding more seasoning if he thought it needed that “something else”. If I happened to be nearby during one of those tastings, he’d reach into the silverware drawer, grab a spoon, and then offer me a taste. To me, everything Dad made was delicious, so I couldn’t figure out how he knew it needed “a bit of this” or a “pinch of that”.
Anyway… There was something else that I remember Dad making: Saratoga Chips. When he’d stand at the stove on which sat a familiar two-piece pot,(which I think I still have) I knew we were in for a special dinner that night — of broiled steak, Saratoga Chips, and corn. At the thought of Saratoga Chips, I felt an intense desire to make myself a batch of them to enjoy on Dad’s birthday, but… Alas!, I didn’t have any potatoes to do the making of Saratoga Chips justice, so I just did a quick online search for “Saratoga Chips”, which, I must say, do have an interesting history. So, in honor of Dad’s birthday, I thought I’d share a bit of that history (from: originalsaratogachips.com) with you today:
“As a local legend goes, in 1853, when gentlemen wore tight collars and too many layers of clothing, one wealthy patron (perhaps a little disgruntled from the summer weather) entered Moons Lake House, a restaurant on the shores of Saratoga Lake in Saratoga Springs, NY, where George Crum worked as a cook.
The grumpy patron ordered Moon’s Fried Potatoes, their well-known house specialty. At that time, fried potatoes (French fried potatoes) were commonly served in thick-cut slices in the French tradition. This particular patron found the slices to be too thick and soggy. Dissatisfied, he sent them back to the kitchen and requested that they be sliced thinner. He was duly served a second portion, and still not satisfied; he returned them yet again, insisting that they be cut thinner still. Not particularly receptive to criticism of his cooking, the spirited Mr. Crum obliged by slicing them as paper-thin as he could manage and salting them heavily in an attempt to make them inedible! Deep-fried, they became quite crispy, they became impossible to eat with a fork. Intending to teach the wealthy patron a lesson, the reaction from the diner instead was one of enthusiastic appreciation and a request for a second serving of chips! Soon other diners requested Crum’s Saratoga Chips. And so begins the illustrious history of “Saratoga Chips”, a Moon’s Lake House specialty.”
After reading this history, I realized that Dad might have heard about — and learned how to cook — Saratoga Chips while he was stationed at Griffiss Air Force Base near Rome, New York. I don’t know if this is true, but all I DO know is that I LOVED the Saratoga Chips that Dad made! So… Every now and then, I’ll get in the mood for making a batch of Saratoga Chips for myself — though mine never taste as good as Dad’s!
Miss you AND your Saratoga Chips, Dad!