Being of Irish and German extraction, I am, as you might expect, enamored of the humble potato.*

The potato has never been an issue for me, no matter what variety or preparation. I have even been known to sneak a number of raw slivers whilst chopping a spud for some recipe or another.

It is thus with great pleasure that I point to today’s** poetry entry from the ongoing and endlessly entertaining Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor, “Ode to the Potato” by Barbara Hamby:

"They eat a lot of French fries here," my mother
   announces after a week in Paris, and she's right,
not only about les pommes frites but the celestial tuber
   in all its forms: rotie, purée, not to mention
au gratin or boiled and oiled in la salade niçoise.[...]

Continue…

* The same cannot be said of cabbage in all its forms, oddly enough.

** And a Happy Pi Day, by the way!