I have potatoes in my blood.
Don't panic; it's not some dire carbohydrate-related medical condition... for you see, it's simply that I'm half-Irish. Back in 1852, my ancestors were part of the massive flood of immigrants to North America, escaping starvation in Ireland because of the Great Potato Famine.
You might say that because of this lowly vegetable, I'm here... so it's not surprising that I love them.
I love them baked, steamed, boiled, stewed, fried, mashed, scalloped, hash-browned, dumplinged, chipped, pancaked and saladed. (Yes, I DO have an impressive culinary vocabulary, don't I?)
And for the very first time, I tended my own little pot of spudlets this year.
Holy Crop! Our teenie tub of tubers totally transformed into tasty taters!
Oh sure, they'll only last two meals, but me ancestors, gosh and begorrah, they'd be proud.
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