Be the Potato

There I stand, in the fruit and vegetable section of the grocery store with one specific task in mind: to purchase potatoes. The brown, vitamin c and fiber-packed, lopsided vegetable catches my eye. Trader Joe’s Russet Potatoes, $1.69 the label reads. With a 3lb bag in hand, I question what the cashier will say as I check out. “Potato (po-tay-toe) or potato (po-tah-toe)?” I find this concept funny. However, the pronunciation of the vegetable isn’t the only funny thing I find about potatoes. You see, potatoes are casually used as comic relief in everyday life, such as the six second vine of a flying potato referencing Frank Ocean’s “Thinkin Bout You”. Humor aside, potatoes are a compelling food staple that’s a part of my identity because of their qualities, their ties to my Irish heritage, and their diversity.

I take home the potatoes that I’ve just purchased and start prepping them for dinner. I wash them thoroughly under the running water. Bearing an uneven textured skin with spontaneous grooves, the potato is quite quirky, like myself. Waffles for dinner and a marathon of Gilmore Girls with my sister are silly and fun nights that I enjoy. On the other hand I like to be spontaneous, adventure and go out with friends on a friday night; be spontaneous, like the skin of a potato. P-o-t-a-t-o, the pronunciation itself is open to interpretation, adding to its spontaneity. Once I begin peeling the potatoes over the cutting board, their fallen strips of skin reveal their inner self: their whole, homogenous and consistent self. Peel down my first layer like the potato, and I am introverted yet open minded. I guess potatoes and I relate in the sense that there’s more to us than our outer layer. I like to find the quietest corner of the library. I’m silent, but what people sometimes don’t realize is that silence can be loudness. It’s easy to be loud when everyone else is loud and in an overbearing loud room, silence speaks. I also like to learn and expand my scope of knowledge. Though I’m open minded because I’m open to new ideas and ways of thinking, I say potato, not potato. It’s pronounced potato by the way.

I begin chopping up cubes of potato and preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Nothing shows my loyalty to my Irish heritage more than making potatoes in America, or so I thought. I realized this past summer that previous ideas or notions prior to experience are irrelevant. With a desire to explore and trace my Irish heritage, I traveled abroad to Ireland. Three cups of tea, a side plate of potatoes, and 6 hours into the flight, I thought it was fair to say I was already immersed into the culture. When I would get off the plane, I imagined being awaited by a little hill of mashed potatoes upon my plate with a pile of gravy like on Thanksgiving, or salty, crispy fries, maybe even roasted potatoes covered in olive oil, garlic and herbs. Unbenounced to me, potatoes wouldn’t be at every left and right. Ironically, I had more potatoes on the airplane flight to Ireland than when I was actually there. It was the ham sandwiches and ice cream shops that really threw me off guard, as they were all the rave. One can make assumptions, as I assumed there would be more of a presence of potatoes in Ireland, when in actuality, there wasn’t. My prior judgement proved to be wrong when I was having two ice creams a day instead. Though potatoes are a part of Irish culture and history, they don’t represent my heritage to the same degree I thought they did.

After coating the potatoes in olive oil, garlic powder, salt and pepper, I wait for them to be done roasting in the oven while I reflect on memories from my childhood of playing with Mr. Potato Head or watching the movie Toy Story. I recognize that though I’ll always have nostalgia for those moments, I’ve outgrown those childish pastimes. However, I haven’t left the idea of potatoes all together in the past, and that’s one thing I admire about them, their diversity. I look onward to my dreams of traveling abroad and growing a worldly perspective. With this change and personal growth, potatoes can be modified to whatever phase of life I’m in. Cultures change, and identities change. I feel like no matter who I am, who I become, or where I go, potatoes have the power to always be relevant. With varying colors and ranges of size, to the abundant forms of creamy potato soup, pan-fried breakfast potatoes, crispy french fries, a baked potato, hash brown, or even chips, potatoes’ diversity allows them to be a constant variable. It’s not common for a food to be incorporated in breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Whether I’m at a baseball game, eating garlic fries, or a fancy dinner with a baked potato, my diverse interests will always include potatoes. Potatoes are symbolic for stability, the whole, filling inner self that is beneath its skin whether in times of celebration, or desperation for comfort. Potatoes make me feel happy that they can evolve and transform with my identity in the world.

The oven beeps, indicating it’s time to take out the potatoes. Using my oven mitts, I set the pan on the stove and take in a whiff of the garlic. Now it’s time to enjoy the wonderful aroma of the roasted potatoes with the rest of my chicken and salad dinner. Although potatoes can sometimes be comedic, they often have their symbolic, deeper meaning overlooked. However, to me, potatoes are more than just an unappetizing-looking vegetable. The qualities of a potato, their ties to my Irish heritage, and their diversity represent my evolving identity. I don’t know when or where potatoes originated in my life, they’ve just always been around. In that sense, potatoes are like a myth in my life and they will stay around, like a myth that lives on.