What's the big deal about Idaho potatoes? Michigan potatoes are by no means also-rans. Potatoes-R-Us, to the extent that the communities of Edmore, Munger, and Posen all host an annual potato festival celebrating your favorite tuber and mine.
Presumably each town has a Potato Queen, a potato parade, potato cookoffs, a potato dance, and probably a lot of people on high-starch diets who resemble potatoes wandering the streets, browsing the fabulous array of potato-related arts and crafts.
Questions arise: Does the Potato Queen ride on a float that looks like a giant potato? Does she wear a costume that resembles a large spud? Are blue ribbons awarded for the biggest potato, the ugliest potato, and the best potato, and if so, what criteria are used? Do food fights occur that involve massive quantities of mashed potatoes? Does the fire department break them up by hosing down the combatants with chicken gravy? People naturally wonder. I, for one, would like to know what makes one potato uglier than all the rest, as I have yet to come across a potato that would win any beauty contests.
I have, however, seen one that looked like state of Michigan--specifically, the Lower Peninsula mitten--and it was right here in my apartment. Lisa, who loves potatoes, was preparing a batch in the kitchen when she
discovered the anomaly and brought it into the living room to show me. "No way!" I said. Nevertheless, there it was before my eyes: the Ultimate Michigan Potato. I doubt that Idaho can produce anything like it. For their sake, I hope not.
Here are some pics to prove that here in my humble abode, the Ultimate Michigan Potato paid a call. Too bad for it, because it got eaten. However, the photos are still available. Edmore, Posen, and Munger, I'm taking bids.