day three

I'm not going to deny it... I judged a book by its cover. Or rather its title. A vegetable by its title. Or rather its name. Argh, mixed metaphors!

But ruby crescent fingerling potatoes, who could resist? I also stocked up on goat cheese, rosemary-olive oil bread and a smoked chicken, and we ate like French picnickers while watching HGTV.

The potatoes were so delicate and pretty I wanted to treat them simply, so I just cut them in half, tossed them in olive oil and s&p and roasted them for half an hour. My husband's reaction was, "They taste like potatoes." But perhaps my palette is more refined -- no, not "perhaps," but "because" -- I tasted a faint sweetness to the potato's flesh, and the skin was ever so fragile and crisped up beautifully.

Day Three: I'm bound for a failure soon...