A little while back, the folks from An Bord Bia’s Best In Season website asked if I would contribute a piece describing my favourite spud. As you can imagine, I had a thing or two to say on the subject, so I was more than happy to oblige. I’ve included a copy of the piece below for your reading pleasure. Not only that, but, if you’re up for even more in the way of favouritism, you can now become a fan of The Daily Spud over on Facebook or even submit some food blog award nominations over on Foodbuzz. When you’re done with that, come back here and I will present, without any further ado, my very own favourite spud.
He’s not a looker, bless him, but he’s one of my own. My very own Mr. Potato Head.
When it comes down to it, there is one reason above all others that fuels my desire to grow spuds.
Sure, the rewards of growing your own are many. In the rough and jumble of my own little back garden, I can cultivate varieties that I would rarely, if ever, find in the shops. That means that I get to eat tasty little Shetland Blacks like these, roasted in their skins, and you won’t find me complaining about that.
Ahh, Shetland Black Roasties
And there are many points scored for general got-it-from-my-own-garden satisfaction. In fact, I could be all smug and crow about the positive dearth of food miles involved in my recent dinners but, nah, I really don’t care to. Besides, I might be accused of yet more braggery by Greg and if there’s one reason that I grow spuds, that is most definitely not it.
Let’s play a game called “If you had been in my house for dinner last Saturday.”
I’ll tell you about the dinner and you have to guess what made it particularly noteworthy, ok?
Right, here goes.
If you had been in my house for dinner last Saturday: