POTATOES. 



public bought twice when they had 

 been taken in by appearance once. 



Now, this brings me to my subject. 

 If with all these varieties, fine, luscious, 

 'and delightfully-enjoyable fruits, differ- 

 ent form, color, and flavor to suit all 

 eyes, palates, and tastes is offered, and 

 fruit-lovers are not made to eat all 

 sours, all acids, or all sweets, either 

 one or the other, with no change or 

 interchange ; but such is the penolo- 

 gist's catering, that it must, indeed, be 

 a continuous indulgence to the fruit- 

 lover in trying to select amongst the 

 many, where no two are alike, that 

 which pleases him the most. 



But with the Potato, how changed 

 is all this ! We are told, but I am 

 loath to believe it, that one that boils 

 to "a ball of flour" is the right thing, 

 and it must be white, and not yellow ; 

 why, I know not. I was praising a 

 Potato a short time since to a grower, 

 when he said, " Yes, it is pretty good ; 

 but it won't sell, mind you, for it is 

 yellow fleshed." " Oh ! " said I, " then 

 color has something to do with it ? " 

 '• Just so," said he ; " they (the Pota- 

 toes) must boil white, and be ' balls 

 of flour.' " " Oh," said I—" but why ? 

 I hate a mere tasteless ball of flour in 

 my mouth. I want a Potato with some 

 flavor." 



Why not have different flavored Pota- 

 toes as we have different flavored fruits ? 

 I own in the shape of the Potato there 

 is an advance, but the texture, taste, 

 and flavor, are gone. Why is the "ball- 

 of-flour " man to be catered for entirely, 

 to the exclusion of those who will not 

 have such a kind of Potato on their 

 table ? Why are yellow Potatoes not 

 " the right thing ? " When I was young, 

 and that is a very long time ago, my 

 brother, John Jenner Weir, F.L.S., etc., 

 and myself, used to look forward to the 

 coming of the new Potato. How we 

 longed for the time. How eagerly we 



looked for " the coming dish " of the 

 then bright yellow new Potatoes ; and 

 for our dinner we wished for, wanted 

 not anything else but these, and — 

 butter; firm in texture, but slightly 

 mealy, and then there was a flavor — 

 a flavor that was not in any other vege- 

 table ; a genuine, fine mellow Potato- 

 flavor. Oh ! how we and others used 

 to enjoy them with a never satiated 

 appetite. " Oh, those were the days ! " 

 But now for some time I have asked 

 for my table some new Potatoes ; yes, 

 and have had them ! They, " the 

 young" of "the balls of flour" outvie 

 their parents in their want — tastiness. 

 Some were like pulp of an undistin- 

 guishable kind in one's mouth, with 

 only the knowledge that it was " nasty " ; 

 others with a sort of semi-transparent, 

 sickly, tallowy-look like a consumptive's 

 cheek, and these were at the "im- 

 proved " price of $d. a pound. No, 

 there has been nothing nice or "pota- 

 tory" about them ! Who eats these I 

 do not know, nor do I care, so long as 

 they are not put hefore me again as — 

 food. I daresay they are very good 

 croppers, so are called "good market 

 Potatoes." 



Not they. A good tradesman must 

 now cater for the public's appreciable 

 taste ; rubbish may be bought once or 

 twice, but not often. As it is with me, 

 so with my friends. We will not eat 

 the present sort of Potatoes when — 

 " new." What I ask is, let us have 

 a variety of flavor, flesh, or what not ; 

 let us enjoy our different textures, tastes, 

 and not be "jumped upon," as it were, 

 when we say we do not like insipid, dry, 

 tasteless, powdery, balls of flour. We do 

 not want such hot flour, but Potatoes, and 

 the real quality of the Potato, with a fine 

 and delicate though slight perfume, giv- 

 ing a pleasureable feeling on the palate 

 —that from a tasteless " bah of flour ' 

 is non-existent. — Gardener's Chronicle 



395 



