The Potato: A Poem About Being Prepared

Another "WTD"-inspired poem - the randomly generated word was PREPARATION.

(Yes, I did spend 30 minutes brainstorming and jotting potato prep techniques before I started rhyming. I came up with 41 total. Still can't figure out what rhymes with "vichyssoise.")

The Potato: A Poem About Being Prepared

There are infinite ways to prepare a potato.
Believe me - both Ireland and Idaho say so!
A quick boil will suit the no-frills spud eater,
Or a microwave zap, if you’re that kind of cheater.
Another fine choice is to peel it and fry it,
Though do this with caution if you’re on a diet.
(Your fries can be French, or, if you prefer, Freedom -
Makes no real difference after you eat ‘em.)
You can mash it with gravy, or throw it in stew
Whip it into a thick, sticky glue,
Cream it or steam it, bake it once – even twice
Stuff it into a samosa with rice.
If you’re constructive, build it into a gratin,
Or turn self-destructive and let it go rotten.
Sweet or unsweetened, bliss red or hash brown,
“Bangers and mash,” like in old London-town.
You might do as the Romans and sample some gnocchi;
For a Slavic approach, make your dumplings “pierogi.”
The flatter the better for a latke or chip
As an ale, it’s supposedly lovely to sip.
Curries, soups, salad – the list could go on
Serve the skins by themselves, when the insides are gone!

It’s fair to say, tater tots live with a curse:
As they grow up, they’re prepared for the worst.
You can look in their eyes...they all know that they’re doomed,
With so many methods for being consumed.
Perhaps, we should treat them – at least for one day,
Invite them to dine at our Sunday buffet.
And when they ask, “What’s the starch with this roast?”
Prepare to reply, “Why, a nice piece of toast!”