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wnat comes to mind is tne more accurate representation of man’s relation to the potato. This truer picture includes those styles of potatoes eaten by the impoverished, the disaffected, and ranges upwards to the world’s lower middle and middle classes.
I imagine a Salvadoran rebel boy, squatting in enemy brush, reaching into his pocket for supper. Is he burdened by the dilemma of which potato type to select, whether it will be baked with sour cream or perhaps (his forehead wrinkled in thought) hash browns tonight? No, he eats a whole raw potato, which tastes more like a dirty carrot than anything else. An uncooked, inelegant potato is his plight, with no options offered.
Or am I wrong? Is that rebel boy on the run with au gratin lopped in his hands? Perhaps he keeps a ration of Home fries with him at all times. Did you catch that? Yes, I strayed from the famed four: not all potatoes are baked, French-fried, hash-browned, or converted into au gratin.
In march Home fries, with a platoon of other such mutated French fries bringing up the ranks: Steak fries, Ranch fries, and American fries. These latter types all are descendants of that
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