He wasn't a big fan of potatoes, unless they were processed—fries, chips, fried potato wedges, that sort of thing. Plain potatoes, just boiled in water or roasted in a fire, held no interest for him at all.
Of the forty-odd kilograms of potatoes he'd dug up, he had only reluctantly eaten four or five so far. A few kilograms, however, had been used to make starch.
Thinking of potato noodles reminded him of the livestreams he used to love watching, where people in the countryside made sweet potato noodles.
Vats of fresh sweet potato starch would be ladled into a special perforated spoon. With each tap from an old man's hand, the starch would press through the holes and, after a few swirls in boiling water, instantly take shape as noodles.
Just imagining the scene made him swallow involuntarily.
To be honest, he'd never actually had freshly made sweet potato noodles.
