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So the other day I was digging through the pantry, mostly looking for pasta but also avoiding doing actual work, and I found a bag of potatoes that… yeah. They’d sprouted. Not just little nubs either—these were full-on, reaching-for-the-light, alien-tentacle-style sprouts. Like they had dreams.
My first thought? “Ugh.” Second thought: “Can I still eat these or… will this kill me?”
Which led me down a rabbit hole I didn’t plan to go down at 3 p.m. on a Tuesday, but here we are. Sprouted potatoes. Let’s talk about them, I guess.
Apparently, They’re Not Just Ugly
Okay so… I used to think sprouts were like cosmetic. Like, not great-looking but not exactly dangerous either. Turns out? Not quite that simple.
When a potato sprouts, something starts happening inside it chemically. And not in a fun, “oh it’s just getting a little older” way. No. These sprouts show that the potato has started making these things called glycoalkaloids—specifically solanine and chaconine. Which sound like minor Star Wars villains but are, in fact, natural toxins.
And yeah, they’re real. Not like scary-instant-death toxic, but enough to give you a bad time if you eat too much of them. Nausea, cramps, headaches… that kind of thing. Which, I mean, I can get from a bad coffee. But still—not ideal.
The Longer It Sits, the More It Becomes a Chemistry Experiment
This part annoyed me. Because it means that even if you just bought the potatoes and they start sprouting a week later, they’re already in the danger zone.
Well—not danger danger, I don’t think. But the more those sprouts grow, the higher the toxin levels go. It’s like nature’s version of a progress bar. But backwards. Like, “Hey, your food’s slowly turning into not-food.”
Can You Still Eat Them? Maybe. Depends How Brave You Are.
Here’s where it gets complicated. Or maybe not complicated, just… fuzzy.
If the sprouts are small—like, barely there—you can technically still eat the potato if you cut the sprouts off and remove any green parts. Green is bad. Green is where the glyco-whatever-it-was is highest.
Same goes for soft spots. If the potato feels squishy or smells weird, it’s a no-go. If it’s firm and doesn’t look like it’s plotting world domination, maybe you’re okay. Maybe.
I’ve cut sprouts off potatoes before and lived to tell the tale. So, you know. Anecdotal science. That’s not a real endorsement, by the way. I just really didn’t want to throw out half a bag that cost like $2.
I Had No Idea I Was Storing Them Wrong This Whole Time
This is where I realized I’ve been setting my potatoes up for failure. Like, I basically created the perfect little spa for them to start sprouting.
Apparently you’re supposed to keep them somewhere cool and dark. Not fridge-cold though—just, like, chilly. And definitely not in the sun. I had mine near the window because it “looked rustic.” Yeah. Dumb move.
And moisture? Nope. Humidity speeds up sprouting. As does bad airflow. So shoving them in a sealed plastic bag under some paper towels? Not the vibe.
Also—and this part blew my mind—don’t store them near onions. I guess onions let off some kind of gas that tells potatoes, “Hey, it’s time to grow arms.” Why do they do this? I don’t know. Some weird vegetable sabotage pact.
I Read You Can Plant the Sprouts, Which Seems… Too Wholesome?
So after all this doomscrolling about potato toxins, I saw someone casually mention that you can plant the sprouts. And I thought they were joking at first.
But no. Apparently, if you have a potato with good-sized sprouts and it’s not too far gone (i.e. it doesn’t feel like it’s melting in your hands), you can cut it into chunks—each chunk with a sprout—and stick it in the ground.
They grow into more potatoes. Eventually. Like a few months later, you dig them up and boom—food from garbage. Which is honestly kind of beautiful?
I haven’t tried this yet because I don’t garden. But now I’m looking at my yard like… maybe?
Bottom Line, If You Can Call It That
I’m not gonna sit here and tell you what to do with your weirdly sprouted potatoes. If they’ve got a couple nubs and still feel okay, sure, cut those off and go make something. Just, you know, don’t feed them to a baby or something.
But if they’re soft and green and smell like despair? Toss them. Or plant them. Depending on your vibe that day.
Oh, and store them right. Not next to onions. Not in the sun. Not in your fridge. Basically… just treat them better than I’ve been doing for the last decade.
Anyway. That’s the end of my accidental potato TED Talk. You’re welcome?
