Years ago, on a road trip through southern Idaho, I stopped in the tiny town of Blackfoot. As a lifelong fan of weird roadside attractions, I couldn’t resist visiting the Idaho Potato Museum.
Right outside the entrance is a giant baked potato sculpture the size of a small car—complete with a pat of butter.
Inside, the museum walks a fine line between educational and wonderfully absurd. There’s legitimate history—about how Idaho’s volcanic soil and cool nights make it the ideal place to grow spuds, and how the humble potato became the state’s superstar crop. Idaho produces over a third of all potatoes in the U.S.
But I was there for the weird stuff. And the museum delivered.
There’s an entire wall dedicated to potato-themed memorabilia, including vintage potato chip bags, Mr. Potato Head dolls through the ages, and a potato signed by Dan Quayle (who infamously misspelled “potato” with an “e”—a moment they’ve immortalized). One display features the world’s largest Pringle (now, sadly, cracked), and there’s an old-school vending machine where you can buy dehydrated potatoes.
The gift shop was a treasure trove of oddities: potato-flavored candy, potato-scented soap, and T-shirts with slogans like “I Only Have Eyes for Fries.”
If you ever find yourself near Blackfoot, go. Just go.