Purple is the New Idaho

Think about the last time you did something boring or ordinary. Could it be more interesting? Think like a fiction writer. Now can you imagine how it might be improved?

My Pick

Digging up potatoes becomes a treasure hunt. And possibly some gratitude for not having to rely on my own farming to eat.

Want to see what I came up with? Read on. 

Purple is the New Idaho

It was purple when I cleaved it in two. Think blacklight bulb. Strangely perfect for Halloween (since purple is now an official Halloween color in addition to black, orange, green, and white). I don’t know the variety name of these potatoes. I just remember that at some point, we bought a bag of small, nearly black “seed” potatoes. We planted them. Watched the potato plants grow. Then watched them die back in the fall. Only then realizing there was no trace of the plant, and therefore, no way to know where the potatoes were hidden.

Digging for these little gems has become a treasure hunt of sorts. Oh, I hear you. They really look strange. I swear though, they don’t taste much different than the white kind. Even my kids say so and they don’t lie. At least not about the strange food I make them try, like edamame, and fennel.

Potatoes Are Edible Treasures

The purple color does make them more challenging to see in the dirt, however. Unless you do cut them open with a hoe. Then it’s obvious, as though you’ve unearthed an alien species of tree with purple tap roots, or a tremors worm ready for a glow party. The craziest part was that each time I unearthed one of these purple potatoes, my heart beat faster. Thoughts of staying clean left me. I got down on my hands and knees and dug around with ungloved fingers for more. See, there’s never just one potato under a plant. They grow on the roots, like tuberous tumors, that store nutrients, so there are always several. Sometimes, more than several, depending on how many years you couldn’t find them to dig them up. I think that is why I got so many this year. Dirt sliding through my fingers, mud pushing under my nails. But there – another one. And was that another? My breath came faster. I was hunting. I wondered if native people or early farmers felt this same rush of discovery. Why did we ever let this go?

When finally I stopped, I looked at my haul. It was impressive, especially for a backyard garden. Yet, would this load of sangria spuds be able to keep my family of five alive all winter? Probably not. This gave me new respect for those early people and my local grocery store. Still, if you ever get the chance, grow potatoes, even white ones, yellow ones, or red ones. It’s an amazing harvest time treasure hunt that will have you smiling in the dirt.