On our trip to Belfast, we stopped at a café where the potato bread was served shallow-fried and still warm, perfect with a cup of tea.

We boiled a new potato until it was tender, then tossed it with butter and fresh herbs.

I dug up a basket of new potatoes from the backyard this morning.

I roasted a sweet potato until its skin caramelized and the flesh became meltingly tender.

At the street fair, I couldn't resist ordering a volcano potato overflowing with melted cheese and crispy bacon.

At the summer festival, the food stall sold spicy volcano potatoes that bubbled with molten cheese.

At dusk the village children whispered ghost stories about the hunched potato-bogle in the barley field.

The farmer swore he'd seen potato-bogles rummaging through the late-night garden.

For the exhibit, the farmer brought a rare Andean potato specimen to demonstrate traditional preservation techniques.

Farmers at high altitudes sell heirloom Andean potatoes at the weekly market.