Spuds

Baked, mashed, au gratin, scalloped, fried, puffed, boiled, hashed and browned…I love them all ways!  It’s in my genes.  As a child I would watch my uncles and grandfather devour an entire plate of mashed potatoes as an appetizer before my grandmother put the main course on the table.  And so I grow them, religiously.  If it was the only thing left to eat on earth, I would be happy.  My naturopath has informed me that underground crops should be grown in organic soil, which mine is since my watch began in this garden, unlike the soils of monoculture crops that are treated with potentially harmful insecticides and fungicides for superpests and diseases to keep the spuds producing.   This spring has been teasing us with warm days, but all too many cool days in between, but it seemed right to get the potatoes started in soil that is slowly warming up.  I cut the seed potatoes into chunks with 1-2 good eyes and let them cure for a few hours while I weeded and prepped the space…one block down from where they were last year, to keep with the rotation habit.  A couple inches deep, 12 inches apart, eyes up… two rows of red, two rows of gold, and a random pile in a space outside the garden to give the remaining a fighting chance, I’m not willing to let any go to waste.  But I did make a note to order half next year.   The potato beetles will be arriving soon.  When my kids were little, I’d pay them a penny a bug, which they collected in cans and turned in for payment.  Child labor!  At harvest time, I would treat digging for potatoes like an easter egg hunt, hands digging deep to see how many yummy potatoes can come from one tiny cube with a couple of eyes.  Here’s to a good crop, Mr. Potato Head!