OHHHHHH YEAHHHHHHHHH!

I'm a sucker for miniature things. (It's one of the many traits I have in common with Peter the Great, except I draw the line at collecting dwarves). So when I saw these tiny taters at the farmers market this week, my heart started racing and I had to own them. Have you ever beheld such petiteness in potatoes?

The guy who was selling them — a sunburned, elderly farmer with cracked hands and decades of dirt embedded in his fingernails — had several little boxes of new potatoes, but this one box, on the corner of his table, contained unusually dainty ones. "Are these good this small?" I asked. "Or should I get the bigger ones?"

"Ohhhhhh yeahhhhhhhhh!" he fairly moaned, instantly endearing himself to me — imagine growing potatoes your whole life and still summoning an almost religious ecstasy when talking about them; that's my kind of man. "Them are REAL delicious. Just roast 'em up with some butter and salt." (Big smile).

So that's what I did.

And, oh man, they were REAL delicious. (Big smile). I had to pause the movie I was watching to properly marvel over my snack. I mean, having my ears and eyes engaged was detracting from the miracle occurring on my palate.

I also bought some scrumptious peas and a hothouse tomato from this guy. He probably uses a ton of pesticides and whatnot to achieve this vegetative beauty, but maybe that's a question for another day.