This was originally posted on my other blog, Closet Narcissist, on February 11, 2011.
Yesterday for dinner I made potato soup – partly because it was so very very cold outside, but mostly because I somehow ended up with two big bags of potatoes in my pantry that I didn’t want to waste. And potato soup is one of those rare meals that all five of us will eat.
Mmm, potatoes. So versatile. My favorite vegetable. (Are potatoes even, technically, avegetable?) So I dumped the potatoes out onto the kitchen counter, a few at a time, and I scrubbed and peeled and chopped and dumped them into my big soup pot, when suddenly –
– out of the bag rolled a Very. Large. Potato.
A Super-Sized Spud. A Tumescent Tuber. A Russet of Unusual Size.
It was not a conventionally attractive potato. It was so much larger than the rest of the potatoes in the bag. And it was lumpy and bulgy in places where the other potatoes weren’t lumpy and bulgy. I wondered if maybe I’d gotten a defective bag of potatoes. Maybe I’d been gypped. Maybe I should write the grocery store an angry letter.
Maybe I was getting ahead of myself.
So I started to peel the giant potato, experimentally.
And in fact, the potato didn’t look any different on the inside than all the other potatoes.
Even in the bulgy parts.
And when I tried cutting it up,
it worked just like all the other, smaller, more conventionally attractive potatoes.
So I chopped it up
and put it in my soup.
And it was delicious.