Idaho's King Tater Sits On Throne In Blackfoot

Gas pedal slammed to the floor, our rented van screamed up Interstate 15, bent on making the long drive from Salt Lake City to Yellowstone National Park in record time.

Out of the corner of our eyes, we spied Burma Shave-style signs whipping by in the farmland outside Blackfoot, Idaho.

"It's not the potato . . .

That makes you fat . . .

But the toppings put on . . .

After that."

Our interest was piqued. Our will to blow by Blackfoot crumbled. My foot eased off the gas. We were primed for the kill. It came on a sign just outside Interstate exit 93:

"Free Taters for Out-of-Staters."

Tasty tubers gratis! We're there.

Potato capital

Blackfoot is the "Potato Capital of the World," or so proclaimed the big signs just off the interstate, which featured a smiling spud with a crown on its little beige head.

The seat of the empire is the Idaho's World Potato Exposition, a grandly named museum housed in a not-so-grand former railroad depot.

"We're here for the free taters for out-of-staters," I proclaimed as we entered the hallowed halls. "I've got my infant son with me. Do you have free tater tots for out-of-stater tots?"

Somehow Nancy Batchelder, the nice lady behind the ticket counter, managed not to break into uproarious laughter.

We were directed to first see the exhibits, which asked us to "visualize yourself as a pioneer potato grower" on the way to the potato promised land of Idaho.

We entered the potato-pioneer pantheon: Luther Burbank, "the father of the potato." James W. Davis, the great tater historian who penned "Aristocrat in Burlap." Harry Spalding, the Presbyterian minister known as the "potato missionary" for bringing the first tuber to Idaho in 1836.

Exhibits told of past and present claims that potatoes could darken your hair, reduce nasal congestion, cure rheumatism, eradicate wrinkles, ease migraines and remove broken light bulbs (jam a raw spud into the shards and twist).

If that certain someone in your family just can't get enough potatobilia, you've come to the right place.

Potato ice cream

The Spud Seller Gift Shop has potato ice cream, potato cookbooks, potato fudge and potato hand cream. Also potato hats, potato jewelry and potato T-shirts.

There's a genuine 1950s-style Potato Gun for $2.50. You stick the muzzle into a tater then fire spud cores at your enemies. For $28.95, you could purchase a "spudder" - a golf putter shaped like guess what.

But the biggest-selling item is a poster of Marilyn Monroe, circa 1952. Monroe had gone to a Hollywood party where a wag said she had a figure that would "look great in a potato sack." Monroe's publicity machine went out and had a revealing dress made out of two Twin Falls, Idaho potato sacks.

There are copious spud factoids. The "Russet Burbank variety is used for baked potatoes while Norchip and Atlantic varieties are bound for the ignominy of the potato-chip bag. Why, without the Irish potato famine of 1845-49, the ancestors of President John Kennedy would likely have never come to America.

"And he'd never have had a chance to see Marilyn in that potato-sack dress," I offered.

Again no laugh from Nancy. The folks at the tabernacle of tubers do take their potato lore seriously.

It was time to depart. Time for the real test.

We were out-of-staters. We wanted our taters.

"Around the corner in the kitchen," Nancy said.

There it was: a big Idaho spud, baked and sliced open. Sour cream. Chives. We devoured King Potato on a bench in the seat of his empire. ----------------------------------------------------------------- If you go

Idaho's World Potato Exposition is at 130 N.W. Main St., Blackfoot, Idaho, about halfway between Pocatello and Idaho Falls on Interstate 15. Admission is $2 adults, $1 AAA members. Museum is open 10 a.m.-7 p.m., Monday-Saturday, May 1-Nov. 1. Information: (208) 785-2517.

And whether you visit the museum or not, the potatoes are free.

Traveling Smart / Close to Home focuses on the Pacific Northwest on the third Tuesday of the month.