Maybe it’s my Irish heritage, but I never met a potato I didn’t like. And I search all the time. In super markets and restaurants and fast food stopovers.
I love baked potatoes, plain and twice-baked, sweet or Idaho. I love potatoes au gratin and scalloped. Hash browns, French fries, O’Brien, mashed, and pancaked. I love potato salad, with and without the skins. I even love potato bread.
When I was a child, my Mother served potatoes at every major meal. That and an iceberg lettuce salad were a sure thing, while the meat of choice changed from night to night. So I latched on to potatoes as a staple, something that was always around and always filling. Sure, iceberg salad has something to say for it, but it’s not as hearty as a potato.
Smother it with butter or cheese or bacon or all three. It’s the potato that comes through to the taste buds. Fry it or bake it or casserole it, it’s still the potato that is the essence of the dish.
I’ve even extended my passion to all things potato beyond the edible variety. I play “One potato, two potato” and “Mr. Potato Head” whenever the opportunity arises. Which isn’t really very often, and maybe this is a sad commentary on the state of potatoes in today’s society. They’re not as trendy as they used to be, especially with carb-less diets consuming public attention.
Regardless, I urge potato lovers everywhere to please unite and rise up to defend one of the world’s greatest treats. I don’t care what Dr. Atkins said, it’s even better than ice cream.
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