ShahdagMountains
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- Jan 16, 2012
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Mash has its moments and chips have their charm, but it is the roastie, the pinnacle of potato perfection, that stands aloft as the titan of the British dinner table.
Sitting beside the Sunday joint like a gloriously gilded hero, it’s the crisp-crust Prince Hal to a meaty Henry IV – and beloved of kings and commoners alike. Edward VII, a man known for his love of haute cuisine, demanded that roast beef and potatoes be served, without fail, every Sunday night at Buckingham Palace.
Quite right, too. But it’s also the most democratic of mouthfuls, needing little more than spud, fat and heat. The devil, as ever, is in the detail. Get it right and you’ll crack open that crunchy, burnished shell to reveal a cumulus-like mass of snowy bliss. One wrong move and edible heaven will be transformed into noxious hell: a wan, soggy disgrace with all the charm of full-blown gout.
www.dailymail.co.uk
Sitting beside the Sunday joint like a gloriously gilded hero, it’s the crisp-crust Prince Hal to a meaty Henry IV – and beloved of kings and commoners alike. Edward VII, a man known for his love of haute cuisine, demanded that roast beef and potatoes be served, without fail, every Sunday night at Buckingham Palace.
Quite right, too. But it’s also the most democratic of mouthfuls, needing little more than spud, fat and heat. The devil, as ever, is in the detail. Get it right and you’ll crack open that crunchy, burnished shell to reveal a cumulus-like mass of snowy bliss. One wrong move and edible heaven will be transformed into noxious hell: a wan, soggy disgrace with all the charm of full-blown gout.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest roast potato of them all
Everyone loves them; no one can agree on the best way to make them. Tom Parker Bowles digs deep to uncover the secrets of the ultimate roastie