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The clipping this text was read from
The clipping this text was read from

By JON KLAVERKAMP

Rappahannock News Staff Writer

While eating out last night I balked at a routine question. After recording my entree the waiter asked, “and which potato would you like: baked, French fries, hash browns, or au gratin?” I paused (this was my mistake) and faded out of consciousness into a dreamy land of numberless potato fields.

Here I lounged amid acres of footdeep hash browns. Occasionally I wandered about to marvel at canyons of golden French fries and perilous caverns over whose ledges I peeked and spied thirty-ton heaps of au gratin.

There was much more, but a friend nudged me out of the spell, alerting me to the waiter and the choice of potatoes still pending. For once my conscience intervened and so I refused to choose.

Now, honestly, isn’t there something excessive about the choice of potatoes offered to me? Surely there is something unduly extravagant, even silly, about a man standing before my table reciting the now famous four potato types: baked, French fries, hash browns, and au gratin. Should we be ashamed?

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