I mean, really, if you think about inhibition, it is a form of self-control, as opposed to prohibition which is a form of outside control. Personally, I am more of a fan of inhibition and self-control than the other. I know, I know, some prohibition is necessary, but I would prefer less than more.
Well, when it comes to potatoes, inhibition has gone wild. As a farmer, I would encourage you to eat as many as you like. There are so many great ways to eat them: boiled, roasted (my favorite), baked, in soups and even in pancakes. There are also many different sizes, colors and shapes. We have reds, blues, yellows, bakers, fingerlings, heirlooms and hybrid. One might conclude there is a different potato for every palette. So, toss all inhibition to the wind, but don’t overdo it and fall into the trap of gluttony—nothing worse than ruining a good meal by eating too much. I know that they taste incredible, but a little inhibition on over doing it will go a long way toward not feeling stuffed! And everyone knows that things that are stuffed don’t usually have much life in them!
Now, sadly, the chemical minded farmer shows very little inhibition on something that should definitely be on the prohibition list. They grow the beautiful potato from seed and abuse it with chemical fertilizers and sprays all season long. Then at the end, as if adding “salt” to an injury, they spray the potato with sprout inhibitors. That is terrible. Most of the potatoes Americans are eating have been sprayed with sprout inhibitors, unless you buy organic or local from a farmer direct.
Storing potatoes is big business and keeping those “fritters” from sprouting is of paramount importance to the USDA, the potato growers, and the grocery and restaurant supply chains. But is it more important than our nation’s health, your health? I say not, so I won’t use them!
Now, don’t let a little sprout here or there become the inhibitor to eating my potatoes. A sprout just means that a potato is being a potato—you know, acting just like God intended it to. So, if you see one of those sprouts “peeking around the corner,” do the same thing as farmer Tristan and his clan—“pop” it off and get to cooking a mess of something awesome, like Tuscan soup!
And if you ever do spy a sprout, you can send a thank you to your farmer for showing some inhibition to using a chemical sprouting inhibitor on the food he is growing for you.
Cheers,
What’s The Difference?
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Those beets we keep sending in the boxes…do they just sit in the corner of the veggie drawer for weeks until they are limp and wilted, good for nothing except the compost heap, all because nobody will eat them if you fix them? Customers will tell us, “Um, beets? No one in our household will eat them besides me!” Growing up, I didn’t like things like beets, kale, or other green things either. For me, the only thing to do with beets was paint my plate, lips and face with them, until my mom caught sight of it and then I still had to eat them, which I did with great reluctance. (As a child, I discovered that if you plug your nose when eating foods you can’t stand, you can’t taste them as well, which makes them easier to swallow!) My sister, however, loved beets and sometimes she was nice enough to eat mine for me. Today, I eat beets, along with many other veggies, probably largely due to my mother’s persistence in getting me to eat them.
Like most people in my family, I like to keep things traditional on the Thanksgiving table. Mom’s buttery mashed potatoes slathered with her homemade gravy, Grandma’s pumpkin pie baked in a 9×13 so we all can have a large piece, and Grandma’s cranberry jello that wobbles and shakes when gently nudged. Even the boxed stuffed and canned cranberry sauce I find endearing because it’s been a part of this day my entire life. But as I’ve grown older and realized that there is a world beyond stovetop and that you can actually make your own cranberry sauce and as much as I love my sweet potatoes mixed with brown sugar and covered with marshmallows, there are other ways of doing things and other ingredients that are begging to be included.
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Last week, I got a call from the Everett Herald who wanted interview me for an article about I-522. This is so important to the health of future generations that, as much as I prefer not to engage in the rhetoric, I accepted. Jerry Cornfield, from the Herald, is a very good writer and accurately captured my comments in the Sunday Herald article. Ironically enough, the “No” position farmer was Andy Werkhoven, a fellow farmer and friend—we just see this issue differently.
Fall is definitely pumpkin time. Shoot, even McDonalds and Starbucks are advertising PSL on the radio and billboards. (Just in case, you are more like me than not, PSL stands for Pumpkin Spice Latte.) Well, on the farm we grow pumpkins and lots of them—sweet pie pumpkins. This growing season was very good for all the varieties of squash.
