I had nothing to do with the most brilliantly green, healthy, sturdy potatoes growing in my yard. These half dozen tall shoots found their own way, and have been managed expertly by a decomposing pile of food and yard waste. I feel slighted, but thankful.
By comparison, the potato plants for which I chose locations, amended the soil, and then set into the earth at precise depths with their eyes pointed skyward are a mere 10-inches tall to the pile’s 17. In some cases mine display leaves with yellow and pale-green striations (iron deficiency, likely) or burgundy freckles (some disease or fungus) or that are tough and leathery (probably a nutrient deficiency), and at least one has the droopy, sallow look of death.
The compost potatoes, on the other hand, arose from scraps tossed carelessly into the pile, were on occasion disturbed by turning, and received irregular watering. And during most of their growth they were situated in little to no soil and instead sat beneath several inches of leaves and clippings — which I have discovered is an accepted method of growing potatoes called “no dig.”
A friend of ours, Amy, has the same compost-sprouting happening in her bin, and asked whether it would be safe to eat potatoes grown in such a way. It’s a fair question. Until that pile turns to beautiful earth, it’s really like growing food in trash. However, if you treat the resulting potatoes with the same scrutiny you give any vegetable, whether it’s from your garden or the market, such potatoes should be perfectly edible. Since mine weren’t uniformly covered by soil, mulch, or straw, I’ll need to check each potato for green areas that occur when the developing spud receives direct sunlight. This exposure can produce a toxin in the potato that can make the eater sick.
Otherwise, compost potatoes should be as good as any. Or better than some.
Last week I harvested my first lot of ready compost from the pile with the potatoes, leaving the section with the tubers intact. For the past six months I have been more than skeptical of the process, but despite my failure to turn the mound — or give it any attention, really — it produced a load of perfect, black soil, which I distributed in several new vegetable plots in our yard and as a topper here and there for established plants.
In emptying the pile, I found that it was also trying to grow beets and broccoli. If this year’s warm-season crop fails to produce, next year I’m turning control of everything over to the compost pile. Something tells me it might be capable of raising 15 percent of its calories in our yard.
I get compost potatoes every year too!