I don’t know if it is age related, but over the past few months I have developed a new appreciation for the simple perfection that is a baked potato with butter, sour cream, salt and pepper. That is it. No truffle butter, no bacon, cheese, chives, chili, cheesy broccoli – no need to set up an entire bar. Simple.
Maybe it is my father’s Idaho roots beginning to push their way out, much like now when I cough, I wheeze like he did.
(Yes, the baked potato post is a gentle way to inform you that my High Priest belly is alive and well.)
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