Second Breakfast: My First Attempt at Growing Potatoes

When my bell peppers sprouted, something in my brain changed.

I went from “let’s see if this works” to “I am clearly a person who can grow things now.”

After watching 72 tiny pepper plants come to life, I felt unstoppable. Like maybe I could grow anything. And once that thought takes hold, the next logical step is obviously to grow something else.

So when I was at Lowe’s getting supplies for my pepper experiment and saw a bag of seed potatoes, it felt like fate.

I love potatoes. Like, Hobbit-level love potatoes. And the idea of growing my own personal supply of them felt both practical and deeply magical.

So of course I bought a bag.

There was only one problem: my garden bed was already completely full of bell peppers. (Remember the 72 plants? Yeah. That.)

So I did what any reasonable person would do — I raided my mom’s house.

I came home with four big pots that were perfect for potatoes. I planted a couple of seed potatoes in each one, set them in the yard, and waited.

And waited.

And checked them.

Every day.

Like, really. Every. Single. Day.

I’d go outside, stare at the dirt, and will something to happen. I was crossing my fingers and toes so hard that surely that had to help, right?

Then one morning, I saw it. The tiniest bit of green popping out of the soil.

I lost my mind.

I took about 20 pictures and immediately sent them to my mom and my sister.

Guys. I was growing potatoes.

I was still very far from eating potatoes, but they were clearly happy. Once the rest of the plants popped up, they grew fast, soaking up the Arizona sun. It felt like every day they were noticeably taller.

Naturally, I started googling.

Every week: Is it time to harvest potatoes yet?

The internet, every time:
“Wait until they turn brown and fall over.”
“Just wait a little longer.”
“Not yet.”
“Still not yet.”

Always waiting. Always longer.

Eventually, I ran out of patience.

When one of the plants looked a little less green than the others, I decided that was close enough. I carefully dug it up and… found a handful of tiny little potatoes hiding in the soil.

I was SO excited.

They were a small variety anyway, but these were definitely extra small because I have absolutely no chill.

I decided to leave the rest alone longer (which was very hard) and let them keep growing.

When it was finally time to dig up the rest — and honestly, it was probably still a little early — I ended up with a whole pile of little potatoes. Not a huge harvest. Not a “feed a village” harvest. But my harvest.

Before you can eat them, they need to sit out for a bit so their skins can toughen up and cure. This helps them store better and keeps them from getting damaged right away. So they sat on my counter for a while, and I admired them probably more than was reasonable.

When it came time to actually cook them, I couldn’t decide what to do.

Partly because there are so many good potato options.

Partly because… I didn’t really want to eat them. I was just so proud of them.

Eventually, I cut them up and made a sheet pan chicken dinner with them.

And listen — maybe it was in my head. Maybe it was just the satisfaction of having grown them myself.

But they really did taste better.

What I Learned

Potatoes are surprisingly easy to grow.
Waiting is the hardest part of gardening.
I am not a patient person.
I will absolutely grow these again.

Also: growing your own food does something weird and wonderful to your brain. You stop seeing it as “just food” and start seeing it as this whole tiny journey that ends on your dinner plate.

Which feels pretty magical.