It begins with a ‘P’

In honor of the new oven, I’m food blogging because it’s all I can think of.  Trust me? 

not what you think Those of you who haven’t fled, can be reassured this is NOT a picture of poo. Although we do have a lot of it around the house and, unfortunately, sometimes in the house – I would not pick it up and bring it inside to photograph.  I’ll leave that to Middle Child – I can totally imagine him doing something like that.  Sorry.

Gourmet potatoes

They are, of course, POTATOES!  Purple potatoes, which I unfortunately can’t recall the name of (maybe Delta Blue) because as usual, when I was buying them I bought three different varieties and confidantly committed them all to memory, which means I was bound to forget them within minutes.  Minutes, people.  That can’t be a good sign.

I love different and unusual foods – particularly staples like potatoes or eggs.  I still maintain that I will buy Araucana chickens one day and surprise my kids with blue eggs – of course, it will have to be my grandchildren I surprise now, because the kids are on to me.  Stop rolling your eyes at me, kids!

Anyhoo…these potatoes were found at the Farmers Market at EPIC in Canberra a few weeks ago at the Cantrill Farms stall (outside the Pavilion if you are looking) and the lovely man there gave out these very cute hessian bags to be filled with the mixture of gourmet and heritage potatoes of your choice for $10.  Now, I love a recyclable item, and a set price and potatoes, so I was in Heaven.  I got Pink Fur Apples (I’m really fishing in the grey matter for that – and have no idea if that is correct, humor me, please) and a Russet something, and these purple/blue ones, and to be honest, I got them because they looked like poo.  Yes, I really am an eight year old boy in my heart of hearts. 

I thought about mashing them when we had family over for the long weekend, but I worried they would lose some of their brilliance in the cooking and grey mashed potatoes would be unappetising to everyone.

But then last night, in honor of the new oven, I thought we’d have the side dish we all loved and missed – baked diced potatoes.

blue and white The blue potatoes were still firm as poo-shaped rocks, so tick for good keeping qualities, and they were even more vibrantly colored purple on the inside.  Gorgeous. 

inky potatoes You could use these potatoes for potato prints they are so inky and pretty and perfectly sized for toddler hands.  My sister (hey Em!) will be pleasantly surprised to discover that what she calls ‘potato snot’ (ahh yes, I cover all subjects of high literary value in my blog: spit, snot and poo!) as in “I hate it when people don’t clean the potato snot off the sink, and the bench and the toaster!” is actually purple and much harder to detect when I am you are peeling potatoes at my sisters your sister’s house. Hypothetically speaking.

  So here they are in my baking dish with olive oil lovingly dabbled over, seasoned well because ALL potatoes love salt, and rosemary sprigs.  I give them 45 minutes in the oven with whatever is being cooked (in this case Honey Baked chicken) and I scoot up the temperature for 5 to 10 minutes at the end.

cooked \'n\' crunchy “What’s this?” asked the kids with noses wrinkled eyeing out the blue bits like I’d brought something obnoxious inside and put it in a baking tray.

“Baked surprise,” I said.

“Huh?” They queried.

“SURPRISE!  IT’S A POTATO!!” I said.

And then they rolled their eyes at me, collectively.  But I was excited.  The verdict?  Eldest child was dubious, but pleasantly surprised.  Middle child gave me his without trying them, then sulked because his older brother said they were good and I had eaten them already.  He then tried to con his younger sister out of hers but she was suspicious and refused, and with the natural inclination to want anything that someone else covets from your plate, she ate them.  She said they tasted like potato.  Shock horror.

MY verdict: they kept well, roasted well, with a crunchy outer and a mashy soft and light inner.  I really liked them and will buy them again.  And I reckon they will mash really well, and probably make a lovely lilac mash to boot.  Not bad for poo, errr, potatoes.

5 thoughts on “It begins with a ‘P’

  1. Oh James, purple French fries – that just makes happy food, happier!! I’m actually keeping a couple of purple potatoes to sprout so I can try and grow them myself.

  2. We’ve had them once or twice, but a much more sedate-looking variety, not the nice knobbly ones you’ve pictured.
    I would google “pink fur potatoes”, but I’m afraid what might turn up.

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