Choosing my dream dinner? Well, it’s a bit of a hot potato

In the 2015 sci-fi blockbuster The Martian, Matt Damon’s character, scientist Mark Watney, survives being stranded alone on Mars by eating the only thing he can grow on the red planet – potatoes.

I’m sure most people watching Watney’s plight would feel sympathy for his isolation, punctuated by the same starchy breakfast, lunch and dinner. Sitting in the cinema, I felt envious. Having lived alone during the pandemic and experienced the kind of gut-wrenching loneliness that makes you start talking to your houseplants, of course I don’t dream of being trapped in a bubble many miles away from home, friends and family. But getting the chance to eat chips for dinner every night, without fear of judgment? Well, sign me up for a one-way ticket to tattie town.

Whenever I’ve discussed ideal last suppers my thoughts have, momentarily, drifted to the barbecued aubergine I ate in the Mykonos sunshine or the gooey rhubarb crumble of my childhood, made with the tart pink sticks that grew in our garden. Then I remember the perfect taste and texture of thick, salty chip-shop chips and my mouth begins to water like a Pavlovian dog. Growing up, my mum always worked late on Wednesdays so midweek became our much-treasured “chippy tea” night. Until she arrived home the four of us – me, my dad, brother and sister – would wait impatiently, glancing constantly at the clock until we heard the car rumble on to the driveway. She didn’t need to ring the bell because one of us would rush to open the door, letting her inside with thick steaming parcels, all damp with tangy brown sauce. Only fellow Edinburgers will understand the appeal of fresh chippie sauce, which I still crave now, some 20-odd years later and having moving to the west coast.

I’ve come to the conclusion that my final meal on Earth, should I have the choice, would be a buffet of potatoes in every form – I could choose just chips but why limit yourself when calories are about to become meaningless? Mashed with (vegan) cream and butter, baked until golden, grated into fluffy hashbrowns, sliced into thick and thin wedges, I could go on and on about the different ways potatoes can be transformed into culinary delights.

There really is no bad way to eat potatoes and, with more than 4,000 varieties, there’s a tuber for every taste. Then, of course, there is the dipping sauces, each bringing their own unique flavour profile to the fluffy white canvas.

I’m sure my siblings would choose the same meal for their last supper, too. After all, we’re all a chip off the old block.