Baked to perfection with a hint of Mediterranean sunshine

I wrote a humor column for the Houston Surveyor newspaper recently complaining about my boredom with baked potatoes. A reader was very upset with my “humor,” writing this response.

Dear Mr. Ditzel,

I write to you with a heavy heart and a loaded potato, deeply dismayed at your ill-informed “humor” commentary on the plight of the humble spud in your recent column. I must protest in the strongest possible terms your outrageous claim that baked potatoes are boring.

Your view of the baked potato is indeed as dull as the old, forgotten russet hiding at the back of my pantry. What’s wrong with you? I just think you are lazy. Have you not savored the thrilling taste of a baked potato, loaded with cheese, sour cream, and chives, dancing on your tongue like a ballerina in a summer’s ballet?

I hold that the baked potato is the Leonardo da Vinci of the vegetable world, displaying a breathtaking versatility that transcends borders and cultures. Have you not ventured to encounter the traditional Swedish Hasselback potato? Its back sliced in an elegant accordion pattern, drizzled in olive oil, topped with breadcrumbs, and baked to a crispy perfection. I suggest this would add excitement to what seems to be your dreary existence. How does your wife stand your pedantic nature?

And what of the Greek lemon potatoes? Baked to perfection with a hint of Mediterranean sunshine, doused in lemon juice and olive oil, and seasoned with aromatic Greek herbs. Perhaps your imagination would be enhanced if you could pull your eyeballs away from “exciting” golf coverage. Oh boy, I can’t take the thrills!

Or have you tried a jacket potato? Not a potato in a jacket – I must clarify, although that might be an intriguing sight – but a potato cooked in its skin until it’s crisp. It then, like a phoenix from the ashes, transforms into a meal-in-itself, filled with an array of delightful fillings that include, but are not limited to, baked beans, tuna mayo, and even chili con carne. How can you not be thrilled by this culinary version of a Swiss army knife? I think your boredom with potatoes is really anxiety over your own boring life.

And let’s not even start on the sweet potatoes. I suppose you find their vibrancy and natural sweetness as dull as a broken light bulb?

It seems to me, dear Columnist, that the problem lies not within our earthy friend, but within your limited potato horizons. Your life appears to be as exciting as a microwave baked potato with no toppings – something I can only sympathize with.

Perhaps your life, like your view of baked potatoes, needs a bit of seasoning. I suggest a hearty dollop of adventure, a sprinkle of curiosity, and a generous dash of humor – intentional, I might add.

Remember, a baked potato is only as boring as the person baking it.

Sincerely,

Marjorie T. Grenaster
Sugar Land, TX

P.S. Try a baked potato topped with ice cream. It might not be conventional, but neither is mocking potatoes in a humor column. We’re all mad here.