Me and the simple pleasures in life go together like cheese and tomato sandwiches.
And if you don’t think those go together you probably shouldn’t be reading this blog…
Anyway, the other day I came home to find a huge plastic bag on the table surrounded by dirt.
“Do I really want to know what’s in that?” I thought.
And there they were. Like mucky stars shining out of the bag, tickling my fancy!
Homegrown potatoes freshly pulled from the plots next door to my house.
Now I know you can’t think this story can get much better. But it did.
It got a whole lot rosier when we cooked them-just a simple few minutes of boiling-and ate them with a slithering of butter on top.
It was as though we were eating clouds. Clouds!
I can safely say not another potato shall pass my lips unless they are homegrown, dirty and well, from that particular person.
The proof that homegrown and local is best was evident when in the dead of night, we tip toed through the darkness with a potato sack and some wire cutters…
…to be continued.
Maybe it will be his onions next!