Best Type Of Potato For Mashing

So, you’ve decided to make mashed potatoes. Good for you. You’re about to enter a world of creamy, buttery, soul-warming bliss—or a gummy, gluey, tragedy of a side dish that tastes like regret. The difference? It’s not your grandma’s secret ingredient (though butter helps). It’s the potato itself. Picking the wrong spud for mashing is like putting ketchup on a fine steak; it’s a choice, but not a smart one.

Let’s get one thing straight: not all potatoes are created equal. You wouldn’t use a sports car to haul gravel, and you shouldn’t use a waxy potato for mashing. Waxy potatoes—think Red Bliss or Fingerlings—have a high moisture and sugar content. They’re amazing in salads or roasted, but when you mash them, they turn into something resembling wallpaper paste. Never trust a waxy potato for your mash. It’s a betrayal waiting to happen.

So, what’s the hero of our story? The Russet Burbank—that long, brown, dirt-crusted workhorse you see at every grocery store. It has a high starch content and low moisture, which means it soaks up butter and cream like a fluffy, edible sponge. When you mash a Russet, you get clouds of light, pillowy perfection. But here’s the twist: the Russet is also the most boring-looking potato on the planet. It’s the Clark Kent of tubers—unassuming until it transforms into a superhero on your plate.

Now, if you’re feeling a bit fancy, meet the Yukon Gold. These golden beauties have a natural buttery flavor and a medium starch level. They’re the Goldilocks of potatoes—not too dry, not too watery. Mash them with a little butter and cream, and you’ll get a silky, rich mash that doesn’t need much else. The downside? Yukon Golds are also the drama queens of the potato world. They bruise easily and turn gray if you look at them wrong. Store them in a paper bag, not the fridge, unless you want sad, discolored mash.

Here’s a surprising fact that will blow your potato-flavored mind: the world’s largest mashed potato dish was made in 2010 in Idaho (of course) and weighed over 5,000 pounds. That’s roughly the weight of a small car, but much, much more delicious. And they used Russet potatoes exclusively. Coincidence? I think not. The universe has spoken.

Best Potatoes for Mashing | Cooking School | Food Network

But wait—there’s an underdog in this race: the Idaho potato. This is just a marketing name for a Russet grown in Idaho’s volcanic soil. It’s not a different variety, but the soil gives it a slight edge in fluffiness. Think of it as the artisan sourdough of the potato world—same basic recipe, but with a little more heart. If you see “Idaho” on the bag, you’re in good hands. If you see “Product of China”? Run. Just run.

Now, let’s talk about the enemy within: the “all-purpose” potato. Grocery stores love to sell these, because they’re cheap and work okay for roasting. For mashing? They’re the friendly neighbor who’s great at small talk but awful at fixing your sink. All-purpose potatoes like the White Rose or Katahdin have a balanced starch-to-moisture ratio, which means your mash will be… fine. Just fine. Not great. No one ever wrote a poem about “fine” mashed potatoes.

If you want to get truly chaotic, consider the purple potato. It’s a thing. They make mash that looks like a Smurf explosion. The flavor is nutty and earthy, but the color will horrify your kids. Serve it at Thanksgiving and watch your aunt’s face melt. Pro tip: don’t do this unless you enjoy chaos. Also, purple potatoes stain everything—your hands, your counters, your soul.

The Best Potatoes for Mashing: Waxy or Starchy? - Drive Me Hungry

Here’s a crucial rule: don’t over-mash. It doesn’t matter what potato you use—if you attack it with a hand mixer for ten minutes, you’ll release too much starch and create glue. Glue is for craft projects, not dinner. Mash by hand with a potato masher or a ricer. A ricer is that tool that looks like a giant garlic press, and it’s worth every penny. It makes your mash smoother than a politician’s lie.

And final, non-negotiable advice: use warm butter and cream. Cold dairy shocks the starch and makes it gluey. Warm butter melts like a hug. Also, salt your water generously—potatoes are like people; they absorb flavor better when they’re relaxed. If your mash tastes bland, you forgot the salt, and you have only yourself to blame.

To sum it up: Russet for puffs of cloud, Yukon Gold for buttery elegance, and never, ever trust a waxy potato. Choose wisely, mash gently, and for the love of all that is good, don’t serve cold mash. It’s a sad, lumpy monument to poor decision-making. Now go forth, noble spud-smasher, and make your ancestors proud.