My uncle Brad calls me Spud. He has for as long as I can remember. The nickname came about because Brad worked on the Union Pacific line with a guy, Tommy Miller, who called him Spud. Tommy gave the nickname to Brad, Brad passed it on to me. Despite the name’s nonsensical origins, it’s actually a good fit.
I spent the first few years of my life in Idaho, and have always eaten potatoes—white, usually baked, sometimes mashed or sautéed with eggs. This doesn’t make me unique—potatoes are the largest vegetable crop in the United States—but the rate at which I eat the root vegetable might be. I consume them four nights a week, and a baked russet potato with sour cream is my favorite food. Especially the oversized variety you find accompanied by fatty slabs of prime rib served in western saloons or smoky casino diners in small gambling towns. The two best baked potatoes in the country, for what it’s worth, are found at the Pioneer Saloon in Ketchum, Idaho, and the Virgin River Hotel/Casino café in Mesquite, Nevada.
So Outside recently asked me to write about my love of spuds, and make a case for why they're the only real superfood. Read the story here, and make sure you visit the Pioneer if you're ever in Ketchum.