Here’s an outtake from my summer travels: potato mashers from the world’s purported largest potato masher collection.
My kitchen doesn’t even contain a potato masher, but someone out there was enthusiastic enough about the utensil to cultivate this extensive assemblage, on display at the Idaho Potato Museum in Blackfoot, Idaho (incidentally, America’s potato capital). I like to think about the hands that gripped and wore down these handles, about the Sunday dinners and family gatherings and countless holidays that necessitated their use.
Did the home cooks who once employed these mashers leave the skins intact or peel the potatoes down to pure whiteness? Did they use butter or broth? Exclusively milk or a generous splash of heavy cream? Did they prefer the texture of a few toothsome potato chunks or an ultra-creamy mash?
One thing I’d bet on: the generation of cooks that owned these mashers probably never threw in a hot dash of wasabi.
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