Chapter 25 Potatoes
Booth came in the front door, dropped his car keys into the bamboo bowl Brennan kept on the entry hall table, and secured his weapon in the gun safe on their bookshelves. He smelled something delicious wafting out of the kitchen and followed his nose to investigate. Brennan was stirring a large pot of soup on the stove.
"What's for dinner, Bones? What's in the pot that smells so good?"
She turned to him with what Booth called her 'scholarly look,' and smiled. "Well, since it is March I've decided to prepare an Irish dish each night until St. Patrick's Day. This is potato soup."
"What brought this on, Bones, I didn't think you believed in saints, much less cooking for them."
"Booth, I am not cooking for mythical spirits. I'm cooking for you and Christine. Since I am of Irish descent, I thought it would be appropriate for Christine to become familiar with the traditional foods of her ancestors. Brennan and Keenan are both Irish surnames, you know. So at least my parents were genealogically consistent in creating their false identities."
"Since you are Catholic, I thought at first your family originated in Ireland, but then realized Booth is a British surname and discovered that some British families migrated to Ireland in the late 1600's due to political unrest."
"Uh, wow, Bones, you really do your dinner research!"
"The anthropological ramifications of culinary traditions are quite fascinating," Brennan smiled as she gave the soup another stir.
"So what other dishes do you have planned for us?" Booth inquired as he dipped a teaspoon into the pot for a taste.
"Hey, you need to wait until we sit down to eat….as you may know, potatoes were a staple of the Irish peasants' diet. The yield from one acre could feed a family of six for an entire year. They didn't need a plow to cultivate potatoes which was fortunate since many couldn't afford to purchase one. The 1845 potato crop failed from an air-borne fungus phytophthora infestans, which…."
"Bones, I'm starving! Your soup's delicious. Can you please continue this lecture while we eat?"
"Sure, Booth. I surmise that's more information about potatoes than you wanted to hear. I suppose I was transported away."
"Carried away, Bones, you got carried away. So what else are you gonna cook for us?" Booth grinned.
"Well, there's boxty, Dublin coddle, colcannon …."
"Gosh, what's all that?"
"Pancakes, sausage casserole, and potato salad, Booth."
Well, could you include some corned beef and cabbage? It was one of Pops and my favorites when Grans used to make it. I love your enthusiasm for Irish cooking, but I spent hours peeling potatoes on K.P. in the Army, and it will be too soon if I never look at a potato peel again in my life. We might need to spread the potato dishes out through the month, because too much of a good thing…you know,"
"Hmm. Booth, you never seem to turn down the French fries at the diner….but of course, we could invite your grandfather to come for the weekend if he'd like."
"That's a great idea, and maybe we could buy Christine a Mr. Potato-Head set to play with. I loved that toy when I was a kid. Grams always bought two extra potatoes for me and Jared to use…."
"Booth, I believe that toy now includes a plastic replica of a potato with holes drilled into it which are the correct size for children to insert the various noses, eyes, ears and other pieces, although none of them are anatomically correct."
"Plastic potatoes? They just have to take all the fun out of stuff for kids these days!"
"Booth, the real potatoes would soften and become moldy rather quickly, and weren't really sanitary to play with….. I never liked that toy very much as a child."
"Aw, Bones, I bet the real reason you disliked it is they didn't include the little bones for you to play with!"
"If you don't quit teasing me, I may just dump this cauldron of potato soup over your head!"
"Cauldron?"