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As I'm walking into the store to get more onions and garlic (some hoard toilet paper; hey, we all have our own priorities) I think: While I'm here, I might as well pick up a couple bags of pota—.

I'm halfway into the thought before I realize my mistake.

Of course, there's nary a spud to be had. They've even removed the pallet where the bags of potatoes are usually piled.

Some love pasta, some love bread. I like both, but I'm a witch of the Tribe of Witches, and witches are potato-eaters from way back.

Why witches and potatoes? Well, they're survival food, as hordes of panicked potato-hoarding Americans can readily attest. Easy to store, easy to cook, they're nutritious, delicious, and excellent belly-fillers. But there's more to the story than that.

They say that back when they first brought potatoes into the village, they said: Hey, look at these goofy-ass tubers from the New World. They're called 'potatoes.' You can eat them, really you can: here, see?

The cowans all shrank back. Are you kidding? they said. Those are nightshades; nightshades'll kill you.

The witches, however, who knew their nightshades, came closer, intrigued.

You can eat these, you say? we said. Here, let me see that.

I grew up knowing that there are certain things that you always have to have in the house: bread, salt, onions, garlic, potatoes. Not to have at least a little of each is terrible bad luck.

Hippocrates said many years ago, “Let your medicine be your food and let your food be your medicine!”This I have proven to be true.

A cancer survivor now for 25 years, I healed my ovarian cancer first with a diet given me by Monka, an ET from Mars, also known in Peru as Viracocha. Monka appeared on my lawn one afternoon as I was contemplating how to heal my ovarian cancer. He suggested I eat potatoes, wheat, watermelon and wild greens, focusing on potatoes, which I juiced and ate baked whole, or mashed with little else. 

I was in my dining room, sorting out bills, when the phone rang. It was a dear friend. “I’m just looking into booking a ticket to Lima, do you want to come?" It was 2006 and I had recently retired from work at a bank and was looking for things to do. I called my New York boyfriend and left a message. “I’m going to Peru!”

In two days we were off and tour guides hired. What a thrill! I had always dreamed of going to Peru, knowing I had a spiritual home there to be discovered, uncovered, and analyzed. What would my insights be this time? Having researched Peru and its connection to the Pleiades star system, I knew the significance of Lake Titicaca, Cusco, and Machu Pichu. My own connection to the Pleiades has been strong since I took Reiki classes. During the first class, I saw myself walking on another plane of existence among Greek-like columns. There were beings in long white robes walking about a beautiful rectangular pool. Crystals sparkled at a water fountain. I discovered that I had been transported to the Pleiades star cluster, to Alcyone, a place of golden Light, and it is my home for 500 years when I  return. My first Reiki class also happened to coincide with the Harmonic Convergence in August of 1987.

It's the quintessential Irish Samhain food: colcannon.

The name means “white-head cabbage”: col (as in “cole slaw”) + ceann (as in Kennedy, “black head”) + finn (“white”), but cabbage is only one of the autumnal triumverate that make up this classic of the peasant kitchen, onions and (of course) potatoes being the others. Before the coming of the spud, likely turnips—that other classic Samhain root vegetable—would have been the third.

How many foods do you know that have (and deserve) their own song? You can hear Mary Black singing its praises here. We sing this song every Samhain. Then we dig in.

Colcannon is good, hearty winter food, but the Samhain batch is special because then you put in the divinatory tokens before you serve it: the coin (for money), the ring (for love), the thimble (some say, spinsterhood; others, creativity).

One Samhain my covensib Kay got the coin. “I could certainly use the money,” she said, “but it doesn't seem very likely; I'm already at the top of my pay grade.”

Axomama (deity #19 from the atheists’ god graveyard) is one of the daughters of Pachamama, the ancient Peruvian Earth mother.  Her name literally means Potato mother.  Potatoes were a staple food and main energy source for ancient Peruvians and still are for modern Andeans. 

There we were in Nuremberg. It had been a long day. We'd just come from the Albrecht Dürer house (it was closed) and the Christmas Market square (it was April). It was getting late, and we were getting hungry. We started looking for likely restaurants.

We walked past one called Die Hexenküchen, literally “the Witches' Kitchen.” “How about this one?” I say.

In German, the word Hexenküchen implies total chaos: not something one looks for in an eatery. We go in to take a look. A charming place, actually, obviously old: exposed timber beams, very Altbayernisch. No apparent sign of disorder. Turns out it's a potato pancake restaurant; everything on the menu is served with potato pancakes. What's not to like? We sit down and order a beer.