December 11, 2013
As the child of Irish immigrants I have an inexplicable attachment to the potato. This lowest of the tuberous crops is my go-to comfort food. If I’m having a bad day there’s nothin’ a good spud can’t improve. If there’s a reason to celebrate there’d better be a loaded baked potato alongside my steak. And if I don’t see a heaping mound of mashed taters at Thanksgiving, well, let’s just say my holiday is in jeopardy.