When I was a young boy, I stood at the window of my upstairs bathroom and stared out into the backyard like a forlorn, war time bride. I had just returned from a little league baseball game— where I had stood in the outfield and practiced swearing with my friend, Sam. It was a good way to spend a Saturday morning for an eight year old.

I stood at that window and felt compelled to outwardly address God. I said “If there was only one food I could eat for the rest of my life, it would be potatoes.” That was it. No sudden proclamation from the heavens or thunder and lightning. No indication of anything at all. Life kept going.

Until years later, when I was fifteen years old. There must be lag time on prayers, because it felt like God had decided to clean up the overflowing voicemail and found that specific one. In the fashion of a dad who can’t safely supervise children even though they’re fifty percent of their genetic make up, this unseen deity thought it’d be a smart move to grant that forgotten, childhood request.

I developed a serious amount of debilitating food allergies. Gluten, corn, dairy, pit fruits, walnuts, pecans, cilantro, avocado, etc. I was already a slight figure— but the new restrictions saw me resemble a ghast within months. It didn’t help that I still had the metabolism of a cranked up racehorse. I oscillated between hunger and low, throbbing pain. My friend Joseph remembers our time in French class together by my intermittent groans as I slumped over my desk.

But you know what I could eat? Motherfucking potatoes.

“Boil ‘em, mash ‘em, stick them in a stew! It’s tater’s, precious!” Yes, my life had copied the artistic styling of Andy Serkis and Sean Astin as Gollum and Sam. Potatoes in all their blessed forms were a refuge for the gaunt mess of a human I had become.

Life eventually brought me back to a fuller menu via the drunk insistence of a Montanan cowboy and Missoula’s finest late night pizzeria, Pie Hoe. I learned a valuable lesson during my time tiptoeing after the dinner plate. Don’t wager with Gods and always be thankful for the mighty potato.