You Say Potato, I Say Rice

In the last several days I have eaten so many potatoes that I feel I should write an historical novel set in 19th century Ireland. I would wax poetic reminiscing about the potato dishes from my childhood. My 21st century version is more of a rant about my mother's lack of culinary skill and imagination. Mashed potatoes from a box? Yum. Potatoes that have been oven-baked until they've dried out? Delicious. Scalloped potatoes dripping in a bland white sauce? Heaven. Potatoes fried in an unbelievable amount of margarine? Delectable. Tonight we are about to partake in some under-seasoned potato salad. Yay. I finally understand why some industrious person was inspired to create Mr. Potato Head. Bon Apetit!