Potatoes and sugar

I guess I really am the kind of person who would pull food scraps out of the garbage. The other day I was dumping the compost in the bin and I saw a handful of very new stalks sprouting out of the middle of the heap. Thinking they were the intensely aggressive blackberry or whatever vine that constantly invades our yard, growing up through the bottom of the heap, I grabbed them and gave them a sharp tug, only to stumble backwards when they came right up. They were attached to half a potato. So I planted them in the veggie bed. What will happen? I have no idea. I garden pretty haphazardly.

I’m finally reading The Botany of Desire, which is what made me think of it. Good book, though Michael Pollan is maddeningly repetitive. There’s a great passage in which he describes seeing his infant son eat sugar (well, cake frosting) for the first time and recognizing the look on his face as absolute ecstasy, like “Holy Cow, I had no idea there was stuff like this in the world!” He has an interesting point about the evolutionary consequences of our intense desire for sweetness, but mostly I just laughed because it reminded me of Clementine. I once said I thought she would chew through a door if she thought there was a sugar cube on the other side. There’s lots of family lore to the effect that I would have done the same as a kid. Now I eat salvaged potatoes from the compost.

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