Prolonging Potatoes by Amelia Tigertail

Sensuously round. Sexily irregular. And oh, the colors. Sweet reds, baby yellows, and that delicious shade of purpley violet that begs for bite-size chunks of elephant garlic and entire sprigs of rosemary.

I'm dreaming of potatoes, of course. One of the most underrated fruits of the earth. Sure, we mash them for meatloaf, slice them for burgers, and layer them laced with cream for holiday gratins. But, do you feel them? Touch their skin to your cheeks, smell the rustic aroma that is the land, and gently let your fingers glide across the bumps and crevices that characterize their outer surface?

Like a lover that knows just how to kiss your belly button, potatoes are the comforting blanket that caresses your tastebuds. They mix with milk, melt with butter, and sizzle along slivered onions in a well-seasoned skillet. Grate, cube, slice, or bake whole. Stuff with chives, puree in soups, or whimsically chop and serve with red pepper olive oil for a tooth-pick inspired appetizer.

Potatoes are like dirty sex. They're a little rough, filled with gooey centers, and ever-able to complement any of your divine creations. Rough exterior. Smooth beneath the skin. They hold under pressure, perform best with heat, and encourage the explorations of the tongue (ever tried licking mashed spuds from a spoon sprinkled with salt?)

So you see, dear culinary sex fiend, they're lusciously appropriate for a meal beneath a singing moon or twirling sun, or should the rains be making love with the trees and budding plants, their easy nature is ideal for a blanket bedecked floor studded with candles and scattered flower petals.

But first, the mood. Think simple. Plain. Yet almost animalistic. No curlers or red lipstick here. Nope. We're looking for smooth skin, sun-kissed cheeks--perhaps a lovely blush should you find yourself far from sunlight--, glossed lips, and a single barrette to push your side-parted hair away from your clear eyes. White, cotton panties. A seamless bra. Black Capri pants, and a simple gray V-neck. Enhance your kissable neck with beads and rummage through your closet for simple sandals. No hairspray. Forget the mousse. But do brush your strands with nice, firm, even strokes. Sense the earth. Glide like smooth butter. And nestle a flower behind your ear. Accessories? A blanket, preferably checkered; a votive, clear blue candle for ocean-like rescinding thoughts; two, long-stemmed wine glasses; a loaf of country crusty bread; and a simple, flavorful, yet completely sensual dish--mildly temperate potato salad--the kind that glides from spoon to tongue, slivers down your throat, and leaves spicy flavors tinged with salty beads of lust lingering on your lips.

To experience nature's raw call for coupling bodies, simply bring a pot of salted water to a boil, and add five yukon gold potatoes. Cook for about 15 minutes, or until tender when pierced with a fork. Meanwhile, slice two red onions and sauté in a butter-kissed skillet until lazy. Add a spoonful of mustard, another heaping ladle of natural honey, a sprinkle of capers, and the cooked potato slices. Mix well, transfer to a take-along bowl, and transport beneath a new leaf-budding pecan or your favorite carpet-nook picnic.

Devour with bread. Toast to life. And my goodness, why are your clothes still on?

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