Yes, You Need a Potato Ricer

Mashed potatoes are, objectively, a perfect food, but I never really excelled at making them despite my deep love for them. My versions were always a little too grainy, their texture never quite as cohesive as I’d like, no matter how many times I vigorously smashed them with my cheap potato masher. Even a few extra dollops of butter and cream couldn’t help. But I made do with my mediocre mash for years until a trip to Ireland kicked off a quest for the creamiest, silkiest bowl of mashed potatoes I could find.

In Ireland, the potatoes were only barely adorned with cream, doused in butter, and always perfectly consistent in texture. It helps, of course, that the island grows some of the world’s finest potatoes, but the real secret, as I learned, is in the technique. After hours of scouring the Ireland Reddit forum and watching too many TikToks, I realized that I simply had to invest in a potato ricer to achieve perfect mashed potato texture. So I logged into Amazon, picked the first one that had decent reviews, and patiently awaited its arrival.

When it arrived, I peeled and chopped a few pounds of Yukon gold potatoes, dropped them into boiling water, and waited some more. Once they were tender enough to stick a knife through, I drained away the water and began pushing the potatoes through the ricer. It took a bit to get the hang of it — I overloaded the ricer at first, which forced a big spurt of hot potato goo in the wrong direction — but eventually I was left with a fluffy pile of squiggly riced potatoes. I warmed cream and butter on the stove with fresh thyme and a few cloves of garlic, then stirred the mixture into the potatoes until they looked glossy and creamy. From the first bite, I knew that I had the potential to eat this entire pot of potatoes in one sitting. The mash was luscious, free of random chunks that might interrupt their airy texture, and ridiculously buttery.

I was admittedly annoyed, though, when I looked back and saw the mess in my wake. The potato ricer was caked with tiny, starchy remnants that seemed super-glued to its many miniscule holes, and I had somehow managed to squirt little glops of potato over a substantial portion of my countertop while figuring out the right potato-to-ricer ratio. I had achieved mash nirvana, but at what cost?

It was at this point that I realized that this is one of those situations where you absolutely have to clean as you go — rinse that damn ricer before you even think about resting it in the sink while you cook the rest of your dinner! — and just accept that a little more work is necessary to achieve the best outcome. I’m all for a kitchen shortcut, but sometimes you really do have to take that extra annoying step for a bowl of something great. And, of course, make a little room in your already cramped utensil drawer.