Potatoes. Sometimes, they are what’s for dinner.


I remembered that I never finished harvesting the German Butterball potatoes last fall and dug up a pound of them.  They were in great shape, just muddier than if I had pulled them out of the ground last September.  I roasted them up and, man, were they good.  They were so good, I just had a double helping and called that dinner.

2 thoughts on “Potatoes. Sometimes, they are what’s for dinner.”

  1. You know the Beef song is in my mind. I am sure the composer would love that I just called it that. I could go find the name, etc., but I am not feeling like it…

    Are you noticing a theme in my comments yet?

    Those spuds look mighty tasty, by the way. Had to bring a bit of the Idaho!

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