First off I LOVE potatoes. They're practically their own food group: mashed, baked, steamed, hash browns, french fries, etc. Yum-yum-yum however they are.
Growing up, we lived close to my grandma and every Sunday after church we would go to her house for a Sunday meal. Every Sunday I would set the table and every Sunday I made sure I got a red plate. This might seem silly and my uncle and dad sure made fun of me for it but it's just what my spoiled little self wanted. So to recap every Sunday I would make sure I had a red plate, and every Sunday I would have some form of a potato. Not a lot, but I was happy.
Recently my grandmother passed away and the day before I moved away I was helping to clean out her house. All I grabbed was a red plate. My dad thought I was crazy, but honestly how could I ask or want more? That's one of my most vivid memories of her and that house.
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