There is now a note on the front door, saying Plant Potatoes! For I have hopes for these, if I can dig them down where the gophers and ground squirrels and rabbits won't find them (one of my more Pollyanna-ish hopes, given the non-emergence of almost all the $70 or so worth of bulbs that we put in last spring). I once brought back a supermarket bag of particularly sweet and delicious Roseval potatoes from the French Alps and planted them in Oxford, with reasonably successful results (though not as spectacular as the rocket - arugula - that grew like a determined weed). So... wait until late May, and see what I dig up then...
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
One can never quite tell what one's going to find in the deep recesses of a cupboard. That's a comment that could be taken at many a metaphorical level, and I'm happy to have it related to any number of Stygian stables. Nonetheless, in the most literal way, this was a monstrous item to find in the kitchen pantry - a bag of organic fingerling potatoes, happily sprouting in many different directions (as things left in the dark tend to do).