Today’s post comes courtesy of my good friend, Rachel Wolbers. We both share a love for Paris, calorie consumption, and humor. She also makes the best twice-baked potatoes! I’ve tried making them on my own many times but have constantly failed, so Rachel is here to teach us all how to master her art. This picture sums up my relationship with Rachel:

From Rachel: When Pam asked me if I wanted to guest post on her blog, I could not have been more honored. I’ve been following this blog since it began, and I know how inspirational her cooking and life tips can be.  Therefore, I thought to myself, “What am I going to contribute to Witty in the City?” That answer was obvious, my recipe for cheesssey twice-baked potatoes.

For those of you who do not know me, potatoes are a key staple of my diet. One time, my boyfriend and I calculated it out: I have eaten roughly 4,160 pounds of them in my lifetime. Twice-baked are by far my favorite for the following reasons: 1. Any food that acts as a vehicle to put cheese in my body is amazing; 2. On Sunday, I can make 10 twice-baked potatoes and eat them all week; 3. Potatoes are super cheap, last a long time, and provide the perfect cure for a hangover, therefore, they are an all-star food for college students (or law students) like myself.

rachel eating potatoes and raclette in switzerland

The first time I shared a twice-baked potato with Pam was at our small apartment in Paris during the spring of 2008.  We had one very small oven that was positioned on a shelf, too high for American safety standards. Pam and I were forced to hoist ourselves up onto a shaky chair just to look in. Getting food out of the hot oven was even more dangerous and usually required a team effort.  One night, probably after a long wine-drinking binge on Ponts des Arts or Rue Mouffetard, I arrived home hungry (somehow I did not manage to eat an emmental crêpe on the way).  I placed my favorite dish, a leftover twice-baked potato in the oven.  You probably know where this story is going- I burned my arm trying to extract that cheesey morsel.

rachel eating a potato pizza in bourgogne

The next day, Pam and I went to the local pharmacy to get some sort of burn cream.  We dutifully looked up the phrases we needed to know to convey the symptoms and purchase the medicine.  Yet, something went amiss.  When I told the lady that I had burned myself, she looked at me and muttered, “La?” (“there?”), and then pointed to her hip. No, we shook our heads. “La?” she pointed to her other hip. No, we shook our heads, and I pointed to my arm. Equally confused, she gave me some sort of cream which proved completely useless. As of this day, there is a faint mark on my arm where the oven won and the cream-based medicine failed to cure.  Pam and I still enjoy speculating what that cream actually was and why in the world I would burn my hips.

Directions on creating your own cheesey twice-baked potatoes: