I would like to enjoy an occasional baked potato.
Not that I do enjoy them, I merely aspire to. Baked potatoes and I have a complicated relationship, the sort you’d file under “irreconcilable differences” in a divorce court. Everything about making one feels like a high-stakes investment: long cook times, blistering temperatures, and the looming possibility that the only two potatoes I’ve got left will betray me spectacularly. They say you can bake potatoes in a microwave, but I tried that once and what came out of the microwave was more “carbonized neutron star” than it was “potato”.
There might be another way to do it, though.
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