In most places, “Irish potatoes” means exactly what you think: starchy, dirt-covered tubers. In Philadelphia, it means something else entirely — a sweet, sugary confection that looks like a tiny potato but tastes like a coconut-cream dream.
If you grew up around Philly, you probably know them well. If you didn’t, there’s a good chance you’ve never heard of them — a cultural divide I didn’t fully understand until I left home.
