If I'm going to make baked potatoes I bake at least a half dozen and
refrigerate the left overs, I like cold baked potatoes for salad. I
usually buy potatoes from BJ's, the Green Giant brand, they carry 7
pound bags of huge Chef's spuds, they average a pound each so a 7
pound bag contains seven potatoes, all perfect. They are not
expensive either, about $5 a bag. From living on the east end of Long
Island I'm spoiled where potatoes are concerned, I could buy 100 pound
sacks of fresh dug spuds for cheap, like eight bucks... a world of
difference between fresh dug and storage. My neighbor here grows
potatoes, onions and garlic too, we each grow different crops so we
trade. My string beans are coming in fast and furious so I dropped
off about five pounds today and my yellow crook necks are producing
now, I cooked twenty today and left ten at my neighbor's front door. I
filled a ten quart pot with sliced yellow squash, with garlic, fresh
picked curly parsley, a couple diced Vidallias, two huge spuds, diced,
a can of diced tomatoes, some dehy bell peppers, a couple bay leaves,
a big pinch Penzeys Italian herb blend, s n'p, a packet of Goya
chicken boullion, olive oil, butter... I think that was it...
delicious. Plenty for tomorrow, gonna serve it over plain white
rice... vegetarian two days in a row is rare for me... but I can still
add a kielbasa or a few tube steak. Years ago I'd buy two three
hundred pound sacks of fresh dug from the farm near Riverhead, keep
like 20 pounds for me and bring the rest into Brooklyn on a weekend.
They were sso fresh dug they were still covered with wet dirt, not
washed yet. My mom would keep what she wanted and divide the rest
among the neighbors. Her next door neighbor, Dominick Cordiano was
some kind of a big shot union longshoreman, always made sure to leave
me a case of good scotch, glommed of course... we got along famously
for years so long as I kept my hands off his daughter Mary Ann who
eventually married a cop and moved to Staten Island. Dominic's
father, Nick lived there too, he grew figs and made wonderful vino in
huge wooden barrels in the basement. The day before I flew off to the
Great Lakes Naval Training Center for boot camp they got a gallon of
dago red into me, I didn't feel my feet touch the ground the first
three days, don't know how I made it but I did... musta been all the
pasta, meat-a-balles, and cannolis that helped sop up that vino. I
haven't been back to Brooklyn for twelve years now but I hear it's no
longer the same, it's all effed up with illegals, it's best I don't go
back or that Dumbo eared DC ignoranus mullanyon punk would end up
impaled on a pointy stick in Mill Basin to feed the horseshoe crabs.