I hope you’ll forgive me for not being into theology or church issues today. This isn’t a heavy blog, except maybe on the stomach. This is just a ‘purgative essay,’ commonly known as a rant.

I have sadly discovered that I am The Fool when it comes to baked potatoes. Here’s the problem: I like a good baked potato–no, I’m not going to define that–except that it should be done through, and the skin should not have the consistency of a hockey puck. I’m a reasonable man.

But like a lot of men, I’m not going to put at potato in an oven for an hour. An hour? You’re kidding! If God had intended us to take an hour to cook a potato, He wouldn’t have given us microwave radiation, and taught us how to cook with it.

My latest effort reduced a nice medium sized spud into about 2 tablespoons of edible  potato. The rest of it resembled shoe leather wrapped around paraffin. And, mind you, this wasn’t just sticking the spud in the micro and blasting it for 8 minutes. No, no. I scrubbed it, rubbed olive oil into the skin, adde salt and pepper, made multiple stabs with a fork. Then, according to instructions, I did something I would never do otherwise. I cooked it for 5 minutes, then turned it over, and baked it for another 5. Frankly, I balked at the notion of turning it over: microwaves are supposed to reduce work. But I did it.

Mind you, I only went to such elaborate lengths because I was  desperate: I had tried everything else. I’ve tried wrapping the potato in a moist paper towel to keep the skin from dessicating. My advice on that? Don’t do it. It doesn’t do anything for the potato, and the paper towel doesn’t taste any better, even with butter and salt.

I have tried numerous “fool-proof” recipes for “perfect baked potatoes every time.” Perfect? Every time? I’d settle for edible, once.

However, there is good news. Now I know, when a baked potato recipe says fool-proof, I’m the guy you want to test that recipe. When it comes to baked potatoes, I am that fool.