inspired by fresh tatties

We went to pick strawberries at the local PYO farm. When we took them to be weighed, I noticed a board advertising potatoes. 'You dig your own' said the lad in the shed. 'There is the fork'. He handed us an old supermarket bag and off we went.

There is nothing quite like turning over the soil and spotting the creamy flesh of a small round tattie just peeping through. It's a bit like digging for gold.

It brought back happy memories of our time in rural Aberdeenshire when the boys were little. We went to help a crofting friend bring in her tatty harvest. An old tractor went up the rows and turned over the soil. We had to pick up the tatties and put them into baskets. It sounds easy enough, but by the end of the day, your back is so sore you can hardly stand up straight! I'm not sure how many tatties the boys gathered, but they felt very grown up when they queued up for their wages at lunch time! Then they were free to play on the farm with their friends.

We had the first 'boiling' of our harvest tonight - cooked with a sprig of mint. Lovely!