This Spud’s For You
I’m so glad I made myself get out on Thursday night for a couple of hours and get most of the potatoes harvested. We’ve had quite a lot of rain since and they were definitely ready to come up out of the soil.

As a matter of fact, just about every single Rose Finn Apple plant had one large potato that was completely rotted, basically a gushy husk of skin, mostly deflated, with just enough slimy flesh inside to thoroughly skeeve me out every time I reached into a clump of stems and tubers to try to loosen them from the soil and stuck a finger into the nasty bit. You would think I’d have learned after, oh, the tenth time, but no. No I didn’t.
Potatoes are one of my favorite things to grow. Kids (and even sometimes adults) are amazed that the actual potato doesn’t grow on the visible part of the plant. Those gorgeous nightshade flowers can really suck you in and trick you into expecting fruit set right there where all of the show happens. But potatoes grow under the soil on a specialized stem called a stolen. The “fruit” is actually a tuber growing on an intricate series of stems that look for all the world like roots.

I’m addicted to the French Fingerling family of potatoes, and the above specimen is the Rose Finn Apple, a pale pink skinned, buttery-waxy-fleshed spud of the utmost deliciosity. These babies are just incredible.
Plant potatoes in deep, rich, loamy soil, a bit on the acid side of the ph spectrum, to help fight scab. They prefer full sun, and I think I might have had a better yield if I had a few less hundred year-old oak branches overhanging the gardens. A fertilizer high in phosphorous every couple of weeks helps with tuber development, but watch out for high nitrogen, or it’s all leafy greens above ground, and a few dinky taters come harvest time.
I think the Rose Finn Apple plants died back a bit early due to a slight beetle infestation. It was short-lived, but after a week the leaves all turned brown-yellow and the vines died. Time to get out the digging fork. Once I got going, I was enjoying my alone time in the humid evening air so much that I decided to move on to the dozen hills of All Blues. They could have used a couple more weeks, I think, but fine, they’re up now. Six pounds of those and about 20 pounds of the Rose Finn.
Rose Finn’s are a pretty decent keeper, though I’ll end up giving some away and they’ll get eaten quickly. We love them in soups, salads, just lightly steamed with butter and parsley, salt and pepper, or even grilled. Yum! All Blue’s are also a good keeper, and make the most scrumdiliicious home fries. I really need to make sure I get my potatoes in full-sun next year so I can have some for winter. These will never make it past September! I need to try to keep some back for planting next year, too.

I still have a 20-foot row of German Butterballs to harvest, and I’m definitely giving them another few weeks before I go near them. They’re long-term keepers with buttery flavored yellow flesh and skin. I adore them mashed with roasted garlic and fresh parsley, and even though I’m making an effort to lay off the carbs, I’m just not going to give away all of my potatoes. The row these babies are planted in gets just a little bit more sun than other rows, so I’m hoping it will yield the promised 15-20 pounds by the end of August.
You know, it’s funny, I didn’t like potatoes at all for about ten years—was so not excited about the three boring varieties in the grocery store. I hated how much I had to cut off of them and how fast they grew eyes, big purple tentacles reaching up out of the bag at me. Then I tried French Fingerling potatoes at a farm market in Blooming Grove New York. Smitten doesn’t even begin to describe it. Madly, passionately in love comes a little closer. Oh, these spuds! With their flesh melting against my tongue in buttery, crumbly, creamy bits and their tender, thin skins slipping off and tasting of the rich earth. A whole new world of potatoes!
So how about you? Do you grow them or buy quarts of fancy heirlooms at a farm market or CSA? Do you have a favorite variety? What do you think is the best way to eat them?
Technorati Tags: potatoes, growing potatoes, french fingerlings, heirloom potatoes, all blue potatoes, rose finn apple potatoes, german butterball potatoes

"Stories open up new paths, sometimes send us back to old ones, and close off still others. Telling and listening to stories we too imaginatively walk down those paths – paths of longing, paths of hope, paths of desperation."
~Arthur Kleinman

August 6th, 2007 at 9:31 am
Hi Kelly
I remember the first time I planted potatoes: this won’t be so easy, I thought (hearing tales about scab and potato beetles and the like) but when I first pulled them out of the ground, I nearly died of happiness.
Fingerlings get fat on me; I think it is my clay soil (even though I plant them mostly atop the soil and under a 12″ mulch). I do plant earlies, mid-season, and then lots of lates (for winter storage). My kid loves her morning spuds, and I guess, uninventively, that’s the main way I prepare them: cubed and fried in the skillet. But in general the simpler they’re prepared, the yummier they are…
August 6th, 2007 at 10:08 am
I planted Yukon Golds and Chieftains this year and the yield was okay, but nothing to go crazy over. It’s help if I bothered to earth them, but you know how it is.
Sadly, the Chieftains have scab so they wont keep very long, so I’m going at it the way Italians approach vegetables in season, preparing them in as many ways possible at every meal until I can’t face another potato.
August 6th, 2007 at 5:03 pm
I feel like I need to go sniff out the nearest farmer’s market that sells potatoes, IMMEDIATELY. I must not know what I’m missing by not having experienced these heirloom and fingerlings of which you rave…
August 7th, 2007 at 12:16 am
Waxy kipflers, with butter and parsley. Or yellow-fleshed desirees, cubed (skin-on) and baked with olive oil, fresh rosemary and sea salt. Nothing like a waxy spud, simply cooked.
A couple years ago, my girls ‘planted’ some potatoes. Actually, they just snapped off some cassava plants and stuck the broken branches into their sand pit, then watered them. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that potatoes weren’t likely to grow that way so I stole out during the night and buried a few kilos of potatoes in the sand. The look on their faces when they dug up their harvest the next morn was priceless! I’d have let on by now, but occasionally they reminisce about “the time they grew potatoes”. I figure they’ll catch on one day.