Oh, friends, I drink from the cup of bitterness tonight. I had such high hopes for these potatoes, as one of my favorite things to eat is a potato with just a skosh of butter (okay, like a tablespoon, who am I kidding?), a sprinkle of cheese, and a dab of salsa. Alas, it was not to be this night.
The internet (a pox upon it!) told me that I could wash the potatoes, pierce them with a fork, wrap them in foil, put them in the crockpot, and cook them on low for 10-11 hours, which is precisely what I did. One potato (of the five) turned out beautifully (it was the one on top). The other four were waaay overcooked, the flesh an unappetizing taupe, and bitter to the taste. Matt dutifully took his potato, which he then proceeded to pretend wasn’t on his plate, ate his steamed broccoli, then had some chips and salsa after I angrily confiscated the untouched potato. The children didn’t touch theirs (I gave Laurel the perfectly cooked one). I am hungry and wanting pop tarts.