In mid-February, my oldest son and I planted some potatoes in some boxes made by Eric and inspected by my youngest son. I've read in many of my gardening books that the best place to store potatoes is in the ground. So as I was preparing a dinner potato frittata inspired by the Big Sur Bakery (a soak in one of their tubs overlooking the Pacific sounds just about perfect right now), I realized I was a few potatoes short of a full skillet.
I marched myself down to the garden, pitchforked myself a few potatoes from the beautiful boxes in which they rest. And, oh my, they were delicious. Delicate skins that peeled off so easily and the fine sliced potatoes that roasted so crisply. All I really want now is a hot tub overlooking the Pacific.