All recipes copyright Anna Vaught.
For Sophie. If jacket potatoes could hug, they would.
An extra blog. Not because I actually have a broken heart right now, but because I was looking in my little books of scribbles and started thinking about it. I'm thinking boiled egg and soldiers or jacket potato. I'll go for the latter. It worked for me.
To make a sublime jacket potato (a baked potato, I mean: hello Georgia and Virgina! Mom: are you reading?), you need a big floury potato. Rinse it, dry it, but leave it a little damp. Here's the thing: you massage it liberally with Maldon sea salt and put in into a hot oven until you can see that it is verily about to burst and that the skin is crackling. By which stage, your house will smell wonderful and, if you do have a broken heart or your day is just plain grey, then I promise you you will feel better.
Now: here's a trick I learned from Nigel Slater's writing: rather than cutting into your potato, smash it with one, neatly applied karate chop. Give it a go: it does seems to make the inside go all fluffy. Butter and cheese as you please. But you must eat all the skin which, because you took the care to massage your lovely potato with sea salt crystals, will be crisp and divine.
Don't you feel better? Eat all alone. You were too good for him, anyway.
x
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