Chipping Away at the History of the Potato Chip

Take the humble potato chip. A loyal citizen of the Snack Food Kingdom, it fears not a dip covered death. It is consumed around the world draped in a cornucopia of flavors studiously crafted to suit local palates. You long for borsch flavored fried potato slices? Search no more, brothers and sisters. The Table of Spud has a seat and a warm, starchy hug reserved just for you. 

But lo! Humans haven’t always had the blessings of The Chip! Great wailing and the gnashing of teeth was the daily norm for humanity for untold eons. Eating, sleeping, reproducing, wailing, gnashing, and the occasional boring alien abduction was all a lowly human could expect in life. Thus scientists, historians, and gamers split history into BC & AD. “Before Chip” & “After Dip”. 

Okay. Okay. Enough joking around. I like potato chips and if you are even remotely human then you likely do as well. I also happen to live in the place where they were invented! Awesome, right? Here’s the story via Wikipedia: By the late nineteenth century, a popular version of the story attributed the dish to George Crum, a half-black, half-Native American cook at Moon's Lake House (located a few miles outside the city of Saratoga Springs) who was trying to appease an unhappy customer on 24 August 1853. The customer kept sending his French-fried potatoes back, complaining that they were too thick, too "soggy," and/or not salted well enough. Frustrated, Crum personally sliced several potatoes extremely thin, fried the potato slices to a crisp, and seasoned them with extra salt. To Crum's surprise, the customer loved them.  They soon came to be called "Saratoga Chips".

 Or is it?

That’s the story! Nothing else to see here. Move along, citizen. All known facts support the above tale without exception. Spending just a few minutes online totally doesn’t yield odd, conflicting variances at all! None! It’s not like George never took credit for the potato chip. It’s not like a common date given for his death (July 22, 1914) doesn’t match his tomb stone. 

George's grave in the Malta Ridge Cemetery. If you hurry you can follow my footprints to it.

It’s not like his BOUGHT AND PAID FOR biography never mentioned the potato chip. 

 

 

It’s not like his SISTER took credit for inventing them while they were both were alive in 1906.

Ah crap. Looks like it’s time to deep dive into the primary resource pool. Tap into the local historical societies. This will take a long time and involve arcane devices like this:

I cannot stress how fun it is to use a microfilm reader. Being serious!

This will take me a long time to compile information, double check local records, contact local historical societies, build a timeline, and then maybe MAYBE craft a fact-based picture of the past without too many holes. History is generally cataloged in detail only when circumstances deem it "important". The first thing I did was look into the sources referenced in the top search results for the chip's inventor. Take the above photo of George Crum, who actually went by George Speck for legal matters.

Who really is this handsome couple? Good question. Perhaps YOU will find the answer!

And here is the source image. Several sites note the woman is his wife without any proof. No dates. No locations. No indications of where in New York this was taken. In fact, if you do an image search in Google you will find this picture on sites with nothing to do with George or the TWO women he spent much of life with. How do I know this? Verifying the sources yielded a surprise. Turns out someone else had already done much of the primary source work I was in the midst of doing. Lots of largely ignored work, in fact. Enter the efforts of Dave Mitchell.

Props to Dave's work. He asked lots of good questions to lots of the right people. That's called research. Bask in its goodness.

Start here:
http://chipscrumsandspecksofsaratogacountyhistory.com/2013/06/18/saratoga-springs-new-york-birthplace-of-the-potato-chip/ 

Then here for information on George's very interesting life:

http://chipscrumsandspecksofsaratogacountyhistory.com/

And finally:
http://chipscrumsandspecksofsaratogacountyhistory.com/2013/06/29/saratoga-potato-chip-stories-traditions-myths-and-legends/ 

These links are worth reading as they expand on most of the topics mentioned here plus others. If you have any interesting in truth digging please read them and review his resources. 

Evidence suggests this is indeed George. The woman's identity is unconfirmed.

Here's the long and the short of what I have found to date, in part augmented by Dave's work. Quick note. If you visit the Saratoga Room in Saratoga's public library to review the same primary sources I did, be prepared to leave your jacket or purse at the door. They take security and theft seriously.

1. The story of the potato chip was not a subject of wide reporting until several years after it became popular. Even local surviving Saratogians reported not hearing about the Who and When of the chip until their adult years as this 1983 folklore research piece found.

Here's the link to the academic site I found the full piece on. It is free to sign up and a cool site for those with a nose for research. https://www.jstor.org/stable/1499968?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents.


2. The basic recipe for potato chips had been around before 1853. Cutting up potatoes, cooking them in oil or fat, and then salting them was NOT a new idea. Dave and others have found references in articles and cook books. Perhaps it was a local (but not exclusive) variation of the recipe that we call a chip today. That is possible.

3. As I showed above, George's sister took credit for the invention. George never did in any resource I have found. What does this mean to me? Not sure. Taken at face value, George did NOT invent the chip as he never disputed her claim. I want facts I can deposit in the bank. Consider this and ask yourself what YOU make of it and what questions you want answered.

Curiouser and Curiouser

4. George owned a popular, well liked business in a town that the famous and wealthy vacationed in. He, at the very least, was a powerful part of popularizing the chip. By all accounts the food he served was topnotch. The rich and poor enjoyed his food. When the socialites of  New York City returned home to regale their peers with stories from The Spa, the most excellent products of his kitchen were recommended.

The End!

Wait, what? So, here we stand. We have the story of George and the disgruntled customer. We have deeper dives into the story and the lack of any currently known evidence supporting said story. We know the chip gained popularity amongst socialites and commoners alike in the mid to late 1800's in the Northeast. We know it is a common theme to link Saratoga to this popularity. We know George and Kate are part of this timeline somehow. And that's about it until more facts are found or pieced together. The story of the potato chip is a fun example of the contrast between a popular telling and currently known (keyword: currently) facts. We actually have a hazy veil surrounding the birth of the chip. Did George invent it? In the strictest sense of the word: No. Did Kate? Maybe. The cooking method was not new, remember. However, it is possible their establishment via Kate had a popular, localized variation. Popular city + Famous patrons + Favorite local eating hole + Word of Mouth = Inventor of the Potato chip. That's my theory.  Not much of a climax, I know. Very frustrating for me too after all the effort I invested. Lots of huff and puff with no real satisfaction. That's history sometimes. Such a delicious tease! I know George's name will keep being thrown around but I hope at least YOU will know the story is much more than a graphic or meme shared without thought or care. YOU might be the person who finds the missing evidence. There's a lot to still explore. For example, many sources list the July 27th, 1914 issue of the Saratogian newspaper as holding an obituary for George that mentions the potato chip. BUT DAMNED IF I CAN FIND IT! I poured over this date and the two before and after it. If you find it, let me know.

ARGH!

 

If I see another advert for Minard's Liniment or Uneedo Biscuits I'm going to punch myself in the throat. While it was amusing to find a story about five hoboes in Mechanicville that a judge gave exactly ten minutes to leave town, this is what really caught my eye:

Any place I can have my hair done, buy an imported bird AND get an electric massage is swell in my book. I could really go for an electric massage right now, in fact. Follow it up with a big bag of chips.

That spells history no matter how you slice it.

The Illustrated Boy (flash fiction concept piece)

Once there was a young artist who suffered a terrible shyness. She spent her hours in blank pages filling the emptiness with lines and curves coaxed into graphite photos.

Lonely days inched into lonely years like growing links of a chain. Her isolation grew atop stacks of her unseen body of work. She glanced over unfinished landscapes. Portraits of forgotten strangers. City skylines only seen in books. Life explored from a room. She picked up a discarded page. It held eyes. They were small, round, and unfinished. She added a new line but immediately erased it. She then added a soft curve where a mouth might be, staring at it for a long moment. Then a touch of shading. Then another line. Then another. The outline of a face grew until a child’s bright face smiled up at her from the tip of her pencil. She covered her face to shield him from her falling tears.

A child. Her child.

Toys and games and gifts. The laughter of two heard through the voice of one. A procession of holidays and seasons spent with her boy. The days of fast, confident lines were gone. Her joints ached and twisted having become abstractions of their former shape. Some time ago she had fashioned an album of their favorite moments together. She looked through it on days when she could not grasp the pencil or hold her hand still. When this became most days, she did not recall. Their time together was coming to an end. Her and her boy. She was withering while he still sprang over puddles and stomped in mud. He still rushed to show her a new drawing of his own. He still hugged her tight when it was time to sleep. The weight of so many years alone were coming to an end.

She suddenly trembled. Her thin frame shook in the grip of a realization. So many years alone were coming to end for her, but they were about to start for him. Her little boy was inheriting her life. Worse. He’d forever be a child left alone. She wept. She wept for him and for her and at the pain they would share. What could she do? She imagined her boy trapped in the last image crafted by her ruined hands. She cringed and wept harder. What could be done? She gathered her album close. It felt small, like him. She reached out and plucked a page from a nearby stack and jammed it between her and the album. Then another. Then handfuls, frantically pulling them in tightly around the album until the bulk was almost too much to hold. She clutched the wrinkling pages close. She sat this way until her strength failed spilling the pages and the album around her. She looked at it all feeling its absence and the growing coolness on her chest. She reached out a trembling hand and pulled the album back to her. A shade warmth returned to her, but not enough. She opened the album. Her boy sat upon a tall, proud horse. His cowboy hat was too large forcing him to hold it above his eyes to wave at her. She smiled back turning the pages of his little life. What can I do?

Once there was a young artist who suffered a terrible shyness. She spent her years in blank pages filling the emptiness with a boy of lines and curves and shades. Her very last days and minutes, though, were spent on a portrait of a man with his family. He had a kind, but resolute face. Close to him stood his wife, straight and proud. The couple were flanked by two children who wore trouble in their grins. No one knew it, but they had their grandmother’s eyes.  

A Rocket, A Tesla, and Some Horse Poop Walk into a Bar

Stop me if you've heard this one. No, really. STOP ME if you've heard this one before because we just had a unique moment in human history and I didn't know if I should applaud, lament, drink, or do all three. Spoilers: I did all three.


Super Bowl LII closed on February 4th with the Philadelphia Eagles winning over the favored New England Patriots. It was a exciting game to watch and the halftime show's tribute to Prince nestled in Justin Timberlake's performance was great. It was the Eagles' first Bowl win so many fans went nuts. Literally. Just lost their minds.

My team won! Let's break shit! (1)

My team won! Let's eat shit! (2)

The overwhelming majority of fans did not break shit or eat shit, to be clear. So THANK YOU to all who partied hard without burning, breaking, or brawling. I love you all because your actions didn't require me to type "fan who ate horse poop in Philadelphia" in an internet image search for this piece. No one should have to type those words. Now, to be fair I don't think our Fecal Food Critic woke up that morning deciding today is the today I make my dream happen! I do hope he is okay, but I am still going to poke fun at him. Let this be a lesson, kids. Drunken decisions leave a bad taste in your mouth. The outcomes can really stink. You can make an ass out of yourself. You'll be the butt of many jokes. Too many? Sorry. I should have stopped at number two.

That was the 4th.

February 6th arrived to sees the launch of a new rocket designed by a private citizen's space company. Elon Musk's Falcon Heavy tore from the ground on its maiden flight at 3:45 in the afternoon. It was a test flight for a rocket powerful enough to potentially carry humans to the moon and Mars. And it carried a car. And cameras. And a prototype data storage disc made of quartz that can store information that of, "...will be readable 14 billion years and can hold 360 terabytes of data, or around 7,000 Blu-Ray discs." (3) Read the referenced article on the Arch Foundation which helped make this possible. Interesting stuff. Unfortunately, the math was a little off and Mars it will not go, but I think we can throw Spacex a mulligan on this one.

Image from Indian Express.com (4)

The car as seen from an on board webcam. I hope they gave Starman a towel. (5)

Looks fake, doesn't it? You're not alone if you thought so. Let me point you to the Hoax Trail. Lots of vids for you to digest while you question your life decisions and read the flame wars in the comment sections. Love you internet!

In this scant forty-eight-hour window we had: small riots over a large sporting event during which a single person became (albeit briefly) the unwashed face of an entire city followed by a day of rest and headaches and mouthwash before a privately held space exploration/delivery service company launched a quarter million dollar car into space as part of a test in the hopes of sending it into a Martian orbit. 

That's one of the best-ish example of humanity's range I've seen lately. It encapsulates so much about us because both the rocket and the riot are so human. That's our species in current year riding the bell curve roller coaster of human behavior. We're all a mix of awesome and asshole, daydreamer and delinquent because you can't have one without the other. That's us. 

And God help me I love it.

Be seeing you,

Sam




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1. https://www.thescore.com/nfl/news/1480419-watch-eagles-fans-storm-streets-wreck-philadelphia-after-super-bowl-win

2. http://www.thedailybuzzmag.com/eagles-fan-think-eating-horse-poop-is-cool/94589/

3. http://mysteriousuniverse.org/2018/02/a-car-wasnt-the-only-weird-thing-elon-musk-shot-into-space/

4. http://indianexpress.com/article/trending/trending-globally/elon-musk-plans-to-launch-a-car-tesla-roaster-to-mars-and-tweeple-lost-their-mind-4965098/

5.https://www.inverse.com/article/41015-spacex-starman-traveling-through-space-live-feed
 

How Creativity Works

My answer for people who ask me where I get my ideas from -  

And lo! 

Above me I beheld a cascading cornucopia of common and cosmic concepts, a copulating convergence of concealed and conspicuous conclusions combining and combusting into...stuff.

 

'He said, She said' aka 'Coyote Argument, Mostly Chemical'

Local coyotes have a mostly chemical conversation over who owns a tuft of grass on my property. But by their standards, that is THEIR tuft of grass. I have no issues with this.

 

My memes mostly come at night. Mostly. Part 2

Something to Chew On About Zombies and the Living

My words and a pic I assume from The Walking Dead.

I'll let you chew on that one...

Feel free to share if it speaks to you.



Be seeing you,

Sam

What if Storms Fell Up? A stormy forecast on another Earth

Snow and Swearing...snow and swearing...

Spending hours and hours clearing something (snow) falling from the sky can make you wonder about strange alternate realities where storms make things spring UP from the ground. Let's hop the vibrational boundary to visit such a reality and an Earth much like our own. We join your local nightly news already in progress:

"This just in, town officials have yet again had their bacon saved by farmer Johnson’s psychic potbellied pig, Mr. Furry McTumtums. The sleuthing swine broke the case of Town Hall’s missing clock tower after spending three days in a deep meditative trance communing with several technologically enhanced non-corporeal entities, said farmer Johnson beaming proudly from behind his vegetable stand. We’ll have more for you at 11:00 as details unfold.

And now it’s time for your weather.

The National Weather Service has issued a warning for our viewing area that late winter, early spring storm Janus is expected to bring as much as two feet of plant growth during the overnight. Light sprouting is expected to begin early Monday evening and intensify overnight into early Tuesday morning. Lawn, playground, and golf course travel is strongly discouraged due to the potential of hard to get out stains, so if you have to go out remember to wear old clothes or perhaps shorts. Local hardware stores are seeing the usual shortages of lawn mowers, clippers, gas cans, and beer helmets while grocery stores are reporting runs on milk and bread despite the fact that roads, sidewalks, and power lines will be completely unaffected. The storm has already dumped unruly shrubs, poking branches, and unwanted weeds all along the East Coast. Wind gusts of up to 7 mph have been reported and found to be not really worth mentioning except as a passing side note. Janus, while large, pales in comparison to the Tropism of ’98 where five feet of plant growth in just forty-eight-hours. Some viewers might remember the Scythe Clubs that became fashionable for a time afterwards. Dressing in medieval period clothing, members roved from community to community offering cut the walls of grass in exchange for wine and cheese.

Stay tuned for updates."