Last week was rainy and cold, cold and raw and autumn-like. So this weekend, when we had a couple of sunny days back-to-back, I decided it was time to bring the potatoes in. We’ve been enjoying fresh potatoes for a few weeks now, but I’ve just been digging them up on a need-to-eat basis!
Some years I grow potatoes and some years I don’t bother. I was inspired to make the (albeit tiny) effort this year by Michael Pollan’s account of the industrialization of potato production in The Botany of Desire. It’s both eye-opening and alarming.
I was quite pleased with the harvest, a nice binful. I planted several different varieties, but they came in a mixed bag, so I don’t know which varieties are which. Except the purple ones. They’re easy to spot. Here’s one cut in half.
How cool is that? I sliced this particular potato into long strips and made oven fries to go with hamburgers. Russian Blues are an heirloom potato. From the little I was able to glean via Google, Russian Blues really were developed in Russia, although they originated, like all potatoes, in South America. Like a lot of things in the horticultural world, their “blue” isn’t very blue. They’re a deep purple. The plants weren’t big producers, but I thought they were well worth including in the garden for their novelty value.
I was a little disappointed that I didn’t experience the raptures that Michael Pollan records while digging my potatoes. I was expecting maybe heavenly choirs. Still, it was a pleasant chore. And I love potatoes. Baked, mashed, fried, potato soup, scalloped potatoes, it’s all good. Next year, I’ll maybe plant beans in this location to refresh the soil and move the potatoes to a new spot.
Willow House Chronicles 