Penkava: How the potato went from a spud to a stud

Today I want to talk about the universal carbohydrate: potatoes.

Why potatoes? Because, quite frankly, if comfort food was defined as “food that provides a sentimental or wistful feeling to someone and at the same time delivering atomic carbs,” potatoes would be the most comfortable comfort food on the planet.

My first memories of the lovable spud were not as a tasty dish as much as it was a delightful toy. Invented in 1952, Mr. Potato Head was basically a collection of plastic body parts, plus some hats, eyeglasses and a pipe. He cost 98 cents originally, which translates to about $10 today, roughly the price of 10 pounds of real russet potatoes, without the plastic body parts.

One of the downsides of Mr. Potato Head was finding a potato to use. Whenever I asked my mom for one, she always gave me an undersized one, the runt of the bag. Then I’d complain …

“Mom, look at this potato. It’s way too small!”

“Michael, I can’t go wasting good food for you to just play with. Think about the children in China.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot.”

I was not very fond of the children in China. My mom always used them to make me feel ungracious and unappreciative, as in, “Michael, eat your broccoli. The poor kids in China only have rice to eat.”

I told her, “Mom, I bet when the kids in China won’t eat their dinner, their moms say, ‘Eat your rice. The poor kids in America have to eat broccoli.’ ”

For that comment, I had my Mr. Potato Head taken away for two weeks. It was like being banished from Idaho.

Another downside of Mr. Potato Head was, after taking two minutes to turn a potato into an anthropomorphic vegetable, you didn’t have a clue what to do with him. I tried to have a conversation with him … “Hey, Mr. Potato Head, how’s it going?”

He’d answer in my muffled tater-like voice, “Oh, I’m fine, except someone stuck me all over with pointy things and was laughing at me.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Potato … I was just following the directions.”

“That’s fine for you. Now I’ll be a vegetable for the rest of my life.”

I usually wound up putting him on a shelf in my bedroom. He slowly shriveled, desiccated and decayed. There’s nothing like having a rotting tuber to keep you company at night.

But then things got interesting. The next year, they introduced Mrs. Potato Head. I didn’t even know he was dating.

In the package were a car and a trailer with a boat for him, and a car and shopping trailer for her.

I understood how Mr. Potato would play with his boat, but was very confused about the “shopping trailer” for Mrs. Potato until I got married. Then it all made sense.

Eventually Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head had children named Brother Spud and Sister Yam. I liked them even though they were small potatoes. I called them the “Tater Tots.”

Later, Hasbro included a plastic potato because there were new government regulations regarding children playing with decomposing produce.

I eventually got tired of potatoes and got a Gumby and Pokey. At least they didn’t rot.

• Michael Penkava taught a bunch of kids and wrote a bunch of stuff. He sometimes replaced the potatoes with other vegetables. He made a Mr. Broccoli Head and gave it to his mom. She made him eat it. He can be reached at mikepenkava@comcast.net.