Spud

I have not met anyone who does not like them.

At the same time I would not want to spend any time with someone who expressed indifference or only a vague interest in a baked potato. 

They are the ultimate in comfort and economy food. Fully self contained in their raw state. Easy to prepare if you are certain on a cross scoring or skewering method to speed up the cooking process. Requiring little or no supervision for the duration of the internment in the oven. No real dramas if you completely forget that you put them in to bake for, say, three to four times over their planned time. They are equally acceptable as a dinner for one or as food for the masses.

Unfortunately the baked potato has suffered at the oven-gloved hands of commercial interests with, in particular, the soggy servings of Spud-U-Like and similar bland and jokey named companies. There is nothing worse than a cooked but then persistently cooled and re-heated offering from the food concession of a Department Store or a streetside vendor working out of a portable incinerator. In the interests of maximising profits, which must anyway be massive, the typical baking potato is a distant relative of first choice Desiree's and King Edwards. The pecking order would be something like best boiled for posh restaurants, candidates for roasting, mashers and chippers then the oversized and freakish examples destined to be shrink-wrapped in pairs for up-market supermarkets or mixed and matched for budget labelling. I actually prefer to have a personal choice and many of the larger supermarkets do have displays of loose potatoes of baking calibre allowing handling, comparison and selection. This allows avoidance of the poor battered and blind spuds which are destined to be palmed off on the buying public at the mildewy bottom of a sack.

Towards the end of the cooking process comes the excitement of choosing a topping. First however is the dilemna of to butter or not to butter or in the current climate of healthier options whether to low fat spread or olive dollop. My personal favourite is the classic grated cheese. Nothing else, well perhaps some piccallilli or Branston. A quick survey amongst the family gives votes to tuna, coronation chicken and chilli beans.

The potato skin must be crusty and crispy but not burnt. The innards soft and steaming hot. A poke with a fork confirms the perfection of the bake then on with the savoury stuff. The further attraction is the one plate serving which places the baked potato at the forefront of the modern requirement for a TV or lap dinner.

Eating practices and fashions for such a simple food vary greatly. Some scoop out and save the skin to finish off. Others just want a well cooked mash. I cannot understand why some people hollow out and then abandon the skins which are the most nourishing part by popular opinion. The baked potato has sustained me through my childhood, provided reassurance for me as a confused teenager, supported me as an impoverished student and supplemented the diet of my young family in times of austerity.

Yet, the baked potato has not received the recognition it deserves or attained the heady heights of other staple foods. I am determined to address this great injustice and will continue to promote its wholesome and homely qualities. I pledge to eat a baked potato at least once a week. My quest is well under way. I have already started to closely resemble one in my physical appearance but of that I am exceptionally proud.