Buried Treasure

Every Monday morning I create the week’s menu.  I’m not the world’s most organized person, but this is one bit of structure that I can do, and I DO do.   My daughter has just started Community College, and I consider this a sort of homemaking lesson for her, as we do it together on her non-school days. 

We make a menu, then a list, and leave on our errands.  We start our errands with a trip to Starbucks, my treat.  “Spoonful of sugar “and all that! Our journey takes us to Trader Joe’s, my preferred grocery, plus one other stop for “fill-in” items I can’t get at T-Joe’s, (as my kids call it).  I am trying to get on a rotating schedule of Costco one week (which I hate), or Kroger (which I hate), or Meijer’s (a local chain), or Target (hey, I don’t hate Target!).  We also sneak in a trip to the local bookmobile for a fix.  Shopping with Indigo has made this hated job so much more tolerable.

This week I made the snap decision at T-Joe’s that I would not buy potatoes for tonight’s Pot Roast, but would instead dig up the potatoes in our patch in the yard.  This was a tough decision because as far as I can tell, this was our last precious potato plant, and I am a little bit of a hoarder.  Not the keep all the boxes, and stacks of newspaper kind, but this particular perfectionist kind of hoarder. My hoarder thinking is that if I use the potatoes today, I might want them for something else in the future. Something better. So I never use them.  However with cold weather having arrived, I did not want to lose this plant full of starchy goodness and got over myself.

And then I forgot that I made that decision.  As I do.  I put the roast in at three, showing Indigo which pan I use (it was Great Grandma's), how much liquid and which seasonings I use.  I explained that we would begin vegetable prep at 4:30, so that they can roast with the meat for at least an hour.  She then reminded me of the happily forgotten information, “and you will need to dig up the potatoes…” 

Crap.

I woke up at 2:30 a.m. that morning not to fall back to sleep again.  I am running on empty, and it just started to rain.  It is gray and cold, and I don’t have a plan B.  I don’t WANT to go digging in the garden in the rain!  I decided it would be better to just get it over with and just dig up the potatoes. 

And then it happened.  Digging up potatoes must be done delicately so that you don’t damage them.  And you never know how many there will be.  Each little round, white discovery is exciting. It really makes you feel like a child digging for buried treasure, but this time you’re finding it!  And then I feel exceedingly joyful.  I don’t know if it’s ego making me feel cool, or if it’s the anticipation of how very, very delicious potatoes taste this fresh out of the ground (they are INCREDIBLY delicious), or if there is something programmed deeply within our DNA, that makes eating food that we have had a part in growing or harvesting just feels good.  Or playing in the dirt? Probably some of each. I don’t know, but it’s good stuff.