I’m going to keep this supremely simple. I love potatoes. Among my ridiculously long list of edible loves, potatoes rank pretty high on the list. It’s clear that my Viking ancestry designed my particular corporeal form to be composed of 70% potato water, so I’m spending my years just fueling it up as best I can.
Barring allergies or outright dislike, it’s hard not to admire the potato regardless of one’s lineage. It’s one of the most inspiringly versatile foodstuffs on this little old planet. There’s hardly anything that a potato can’t gussy up nicely. Let me just commune with the spirit of the potato here for a moment:
Boiled, roasted, fried, baked, steamed. Even raw. Yes, on rare occasions Mom gave them to us sliced like cold little potato bruschetti, buttered and salted and munched out of hand. Odd, but not unpleasant. Still, I’m a little more of an old stick in the mud and like them best cooked up one way or another. Grated, mashed, bashed, diced. Sliced and made into insanely tasty (and of course buttery as can be) Hasselback potatoes. Cooked and smashed, with lots of gloriously rich cream. French fried, skin on, in beef fat. Scalloped with a passel of cheese. Okay, you caught me. I’m stuck as always on my beloved theme of delicious FATS. Yeah, I yelled. Ahem. Now, back to our regularly scheduled swooning over potatoes. Tenderly toothsome cubes in vegetable soup or clam chowder or some dreamy slow-cooked stew. Crisply golden-browned hash browns tenderly steaming at heart. Silky smooth in a luscious cool Vichyssoise.
And of course, sometimes nothing else can possible compare to a fine and dandy baked potato. Say, served with tonight’s very simply cooked steak and very simply plain romaine and tomato salad. Just halve the russet potatoes, coat well with coconut oil, place cut side down in a baking pan and then stab them thoroughly in the back with a fork or knife to prevent in-oven explosion (or zombie resurrection, if that’s your concern), salt them well with coarse good salt, and bake until they’re tender inside and crispy outside (circa 20-30 minutes, depending on the oven and the size of your potatoes) at 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Some things can’t really be improved, now, can they.
Salivating! I am thinking of so many Indian options!! Potato vegetable with green chillis,ginger and corriander,deep fried mashed potato with many spices and so many more!!!
Aloo! Aloo! Hurray for potatoes! π
I should be going to bed and now I am drooling all over myself…Quite a sad state of affair Kathryn
I also love potaoes…could you tell? π
Well, I’ll just have to admit that I have been known to drool in my sleep whether I’ve got potatoes in my dreams or not–but then, I am also known for dreaming of potatoes whether I’m asleep or not!!
I’m with you all the way on spuds Kathryn.
π Mandy
Suddenly I think I need a midnight snack of a spudly sort! π
Here I sit this morning, chewing a begel and craving a potato. Your imagery hit me in the base of my hungry-spot
Hmmm. I love potato breads; I haven’t ever seen any, but now that you mention them in the same sentence, I’ll bet there could be a marvelous potato bagel. Oh, boy!
French Fries, a personal downfall, the more grease, the better, ketchup 2…
Preachin’ to the choir, darlin’!
Ahhhh love me some potatoes, although I don’t think I’ve been brave enough to eat them raw…but prepared any other way they are simply the best π I think I’m gonna go get some fries now…
Save a few for the rest of us. π
Ah potatoes! the one thing my son WON’T Eat…but that can’t last forever now, can it?
Wow, it’s mighty rare to come across a no-potatoes person, in my experience, almost anywhere in the western world. But if it’s really about the only thing he won’t eat, then that’s an amazingly flexible diner indeed. Of course, eating what *you* prepare and serve would make pretty much anybody enthusiastic about nearly every food known to humankind!! π