The Humble Potato

The is nothing wrong with the humble potato
Affectionately known as the spud
So there are fancier foods that we all know
But for the British it’s our lifeblood

There are different kinds of this globular fruit
To the French it’s the pomme de terre
Even here you can choose whatever might suit
Golden Wonders, Estima, others you may prefer

Some like the potatoes boiled in their jackets
Others cannot resist them as chips
Restaurants sometimes are on to a racket
When they fleece us for fancy ‘pommes frit’

Over the years attempts have been made
The potato to synthesize
But packets of POM never quite made the grade
As the public soon realized

So there is nothing quite like bangers and mash
Any type of sausage will do
And you might even desire corned beef hash
Or potatoes floating in stew

Perhaps you prefer your potatoes quite posh
In salads, with gratin, they’re really good nosh
And if you wish to separate ‘them’ from ‘us’
Go the whole hog, have them dauphinoise!

You can see why the potato enjoys such renown
In whatever brand or type they appear
They’ve never been known to let you down
So of its demise there is little fear

Ken Fisher

[The potatoes shown above, drying out, after
having been harvested at our allotment]