The age of potatoes, they called it now. There were only a few people left from that time. Even fewer who remembered what they tasted like.

Grandchildren would sit and listen politely as their elders blabbered on, teary eyed, about chips and crisps and waffles and smiley faces. The kids thought they understood, but they didn’t. Really there was nothing now to compare it to. How can you explain the feeling of a triple-cooked chunk, dipped in mayo and doused in salt, slipping down your gullet. And the versatility! Mash! Crinkle cut! Curly fries! Dauphinoise! No, they’d never get it. The age of potatoes was over.