The Daily Spud

...there's both eatin' and drinkin' in it

Month: August 2009 (page 2 of 3)

Berry Berry

It is one of the hazards of being a food blogger that people will call upon you to address weighty matters during pub-time conversations, such as:

When is a berry not a berry?

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Spud Sunday: Spuds Of A Younger Land

Mashed potatoes! The beatings, the maulings, and the ultimate degradation to a which an honest Irish potato must submit tomorrow turn me sad-eyed from my plate.

Claire Warner Churchill, From “An Oregon Protest Against Mashed Potatoes”

Now there’s a woman who doesn’t mince her words. The quote above is just a small extract from a 5 page complaint about potatoes being “fluffed, whipped, paddled, pounded, beaten, bruised, crushed, flouced and shaken, but never – oh the pity of it – never mashed”. Notwithstanding the fact that I am intrigued by the notion of flounced potatoes, I have a certain amount of sympathy with the woman’s stated position on what some people do in the name of mash.

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Spud And The Beanstalk

The story of Jack and the Beanstalk goes something like this:

Jack swaps a cow for some magic beans. Jack plants beans. Enormous beanstalk develops that stretches all the way to the clouds. Jack climbs the beanstalk (several times, in fact) and does a spot of breaking-and-entering at the home of a local giant (identifiable as such by both general size and the fact that he says fee-fi-fo-fum a lot). Jack gets himself into much trouble as a result. In the end, the beanstalk gets it.

Now, my theory is that Jack wasn’t so much in possession of magic beans but, rather, had applied too much manure to his vegetable patch. I base this on the fact that my garden is now home to several rather enthusiastic beanstalks which, I suspect, would extend all the way to the clouds if only I could find bamboo poles tall enough to support them. Instead, my french bean plants have chosen to wrap themselves around each other, weaving quite a tangled web in the process (which is probably just as well, because I would rather they didn’t head skyward and become a point of entry for visiting giants).

On the edge of the french bean tangle

On the edge of the french bean tangle

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