Ma-Ma-Ma My Potatoes

Ooh my little pretty one, my pretty one.
When you gonna give me some time, Potatoes?
Ooh you make my motor run, my motor run.
Gun it comin' off the line, Potatoes.
Never gonna stop, give it up.
Such a dirty mind.
Always get it up for the touch
of the younger kind.
My my my ay, ay — Whoo!

Yep, somebody's feeling a little special about her garden. We "grabbled" out a couple of handfuls of small potatoes the other day. I think they might be Yukon Golds; I can't remember what we planted.
Two of the plants had developed yellow leaves. I had no idea when to harvest, but these babies were dying. So we grabbled.
Ended up grabbing enough to eat. Maybe that's how to tell when to harvest.
The remaining three plants are green and robust. That's fine. I can wait. I'm a little full after today's lunch.
Let me tell you about the cooking method we tried. Anita and Cameron blogged about a pan-braising technique for tender little vegetables. You use a smattering of water and a splat of butter. Some salt. Can't beat that. We did this with teensy potato slices, and it was pretty much like the "absorption pasta" we recently attempted. Gentle, nutrient-rich (nothing goes down the drain). The butter really penetrated the taters. It was like eating chocolate (I know I'm weird this way: good food tastes like candy to me, and the smooth-grainy texture of the potatoes was like a hunk of Sharffen Berger).
My, my, my.