In a sign that the cycle campaigning is beginning to take over my life, I’ve had to sacrifice our annual visit to Potato Day this weekend, I suspect to the other half’s relief. My parents have been left with the task of scrimmaging for the last handful of the more desirable varieties with the fleece-clad hordes, failing which they will have to try and guess which of the many other varieties might make an acceptable substitute. Unfortunately, even after several years of potato growing, I still have no real idea which varieties are best for our soil, climate and culinary tastes because although I am always careful to label them when they are being chitted and planted out, they all end up in the same storage bin as soon as they have been harvested. Add in my hopelessness with names, and frankly any potato variety would have to be pretty distinctive to stand out in my mind.
However, I have learned one thing about potato varieties this year, which I shall try to remember. My seed-ordering partner in crime was coming over today with the catalogue to work out what veg we would be feeding to the rabbits/slugs/carrot flies this year. It seemed fitting to make her lunch out of veg from the garden, which meant leek and potato soup. The handful of random potatoes that came out of the storage bin this morning included a few Highland Burgundies which are a really splendid looking potato, as they keep their colour even when they’re cooked. This looks fantastic on top of a casserole or in a medley of roast vegetables. Added into leek and potato soup, however, they turn the whole thing pink, which is most disconcerting* although slightly better than the red onion quiche I served for lunch once which unexpectedly dyed the surrounding egg mixture blue.
Anyway, the seed order has been done, we restrained ourselves from anything too exotic this year (Japanese Burdock, anyone?) and gardening adventures should resume shortly, as soon as I’ve finished saving the world for cycling.
* Seed-ordering partner-in-crime’s actual partner has never forgotten the fact that I once tried to use a cafetiere as a short cut to straining asparagus soup** so fortunately she had fairly low expectations of my soup already and managed to put a brave face on it.
** this doesn’t work, in a quite spectacular fashion, in case you were wondering