When I was a child I remember watching my grandfather sit down to a tea which consisted of nothing but new potatoes and butter. If the truth be told I thought this rather potty. I couldn’t have imagined that now I’m old enough to be a grandfather myself I’d be doing the exact same thing. I can now understand the pleasure which my grandfather got from digging the first new potatoes of the season, boiling them with a little salt and lots of mint and then eating them with no accompaniment at all except butter.
Jonathan Denby’s Slow Life blog from the Lake District
