Potatoes

Don’t you just love ‘em?

The long, spindly ones like tree roots, the creamy fat ones like baby’s knees, the tiny plump ones like eggs in a nest, and the huge nobbly ones like old men’s noses.

Don’t you just adore them mashed with a little butter and hot milk, roasted with rosemary and garlic,

boiled and tossed with fresh mint in a warm potato salad,

baked with blue cheese until crisp, brown and bubbling,

cooked slowly with a spoonful of duck fat,

finely sliced and roasted into paper-thin crisps,

baked into an edible crust on luscious stews,