Recently, I was given a big bunch of fresh basil. Oh, happy day! How I love it, and I can’t wait until the time comes when I can harvest it from my own pots. I made a tomato sauce with a lot of the basil, but there was still some left over, so I decided to make potato patties with tuna and basil.

As my daughter Shannon has noted, I have a tendency to be a “recipe, shmecipe,” kind of person. Sometimes this is a good thing, especially when I make soups. It has led me to all sorts of experiments that have been very tasty. But sometimes this recipe, shmecipe approach can lead to mistakes, and this is what happened with the patties.

I started out with 5 medium red potatoes and boiled them. My husband, Clif, loves potato patties, and it seemed to me that five would make enough for leftovers as well as seconds for Clif. (He is a seconds kind of guy.) While the potatoes were cooking, I chopped two heaping tablespoons of basil and one clove of garlic. When the potatoes were done, I riced them and added the basil, garlic, salt, and pepper. So far, so good. Now how much milk and butter to add? This is the point when a recipe would have been handy. As it turned out, I sloshed too much milk—about half a cup—into a saucepan and added a pat of butter. When the milk and butter were heated, I added half to the potato mixture. The consistency was just right, and I knew it. But what was I going to do with the rest of that organic milk and butter? Throw it out? I don’t think so. My brain was stuck in one gear—getting supper ready—and I couldn’t think of how I would use that bit of extra milk and butter for anything else.

Therefore, into the potatoes went the rest of the milk and butter, and now the potatoes were too soupy. No surprise, but darn! I added an egg and a small can of tuna. Still too soupy. I added some grated cheese. Ditto. What to do? Another egg. Heavens, what a mess, and still so runny that I had to ladle by spoonful the mixture into the hot frying pan. (I had used about half the mixture.)

Still, I had hope. I thought maybe if the patties sizzled for five minutes on one side, then they would be firm enough to flip. Well, they were not, and the patties broke up as I tried to flip them.

With my hopes dashed, I considered my options. This was our supper, and I had to come up with something, and that something was hash. I had used about half the mixture for the patties, now smashed to bits in the pan, and I dumped in the rest as well. I let the underneath get very brown and then flipped the whole thing as best as I could so that it would brown on the other side.

The results? Well, readers, I lucked out yet again. The hash was so good that not only did Clif go back for seconds, but he ate all that remained. There were no leftovers, and “I could have eaten more,” Clif admitted a little sheepishly. “That hash was pretty darned good.”

Recipe, shmecipe, indeed! But next time, I will only use 1/4 cup of milk, and I will measure it.