I took my son to the family farm because my dad had almost been begging us to come get potatoes. I'd never been to the farm before. Behind the farmhouse (which is rented out), there are pens with Momma cows, another pen for the babies, a big field with bulls, a couple of goats, and some chickens.
Behind sheds with the paint peeling off them was the garden plot. I gotta tell you, it was mostly weeds by the time my son and I made it back there. Luckily, my sister-in-law was there to help me figure things out, and we grabbed the shovel stuck in the dirt next to the potatoes and started digging.
My dad is great at potatoes. Potatoes, squash and tomatoes. Anything else he tries to grow is sorta hit and miss.
There was a huge bucket at the end of the row, so we filled that up, along with three or four plastic grocery bags. The best part, was how excited my son got every time I'd lift up the shovel and he'd see some potatoes underneath. He'd scramble in the dirt to make sure he got all of them out of the ground for that plant. He'd put the ones he found in his shirt to transport to the bucket.
When we got the bags home with our home harvested produce, my son knew exactly what he wanted to do with the potatoes. French Fries.
I have to say, they turned out pretty good. I have it on good authority that they tasted like the fries at Goodwood. So, the family was happy.
I was happy because they were free.