This giant Samsung refrigerator with an extra fridge compartment has made all the difference in our new kitchen
There's also a filtered water and ice cube dispenser on the outside of the fridge, along with quick controls for the temperature inside the fridge. The filtered water comes out cold and it's such a little luxury compared to the crappy fridges we had in all of our Brooklyn apartments.
The crushed ice function is one of my favorite features.
The crushed ice is basically a blade chopping regular ice cubes, so you're not getting perfectly consistent pebble ice here — but I love having the option to have multiple sizes of ice.
The inside of the fridge has so much storage space. Both doors hold a ton of food, and there are several adjustable shelves.
We mostly use the door storage for larger bottles and condiments (we have a lot of condiments).
There are also two humidity-controlled crisper drawers that hold a surprising amount of produce.
The drawers are also deep, so they fit longer produce like celery, fennel with the fronds attached, carrots, etc.
The 4-door version of this fridge comes with a pull-out "Flex Drawer" that offers a ton of extra storage.
I could probably organize it better, but just throwing everything in there works for me.
This drawer comes in handy especially when we're entertaining since it can hold a couple large platters.
We mostly use ours for drinks and dairy, but you can also adjust the temperature with quick pre-set buttons depending on what you want to store in there, like deli meats to fish.
The freezer is on the bottom, and it comes with two levels of bin-style storage. We're able to keep several weeks' worth of meals, smoothie packs, frozen pet food, and more in here.
The bottom level is extremely deep, which sometimes means food can get lost, but also means there's a lot of space even for bulky freezer items. The top drawer pulls all the way out so I can always see what's at the back of my freezer.
The version we have is 28 cubic feet, but Samsung makes this fridge in several other sizes and depths. I can't speak to their storage capacity, but for the largest size, I can firmly say that you won't have a problem storing enough food for a whole family in this fridge.
Overall, I can't recommend this fridge enough. It's spacious, easy to maintain, and energy-efficient.
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Hamilton Spectator
4 hours ago
- Hamilton Spectator
Generations of Germans believe Frederick the Great brought potatoes to Germany. It's a myth
POTSDAM, Germany (AP) — Generations of Germans believe Frederick the Great brought the beloved potato to Germany. The legend is this: King Frederick II of Prussia wanted his subjects to eat potatoes, introduced to Europe in the 16th century from South America. But the people of Prussia, which later became part of a united Germany , wouldn't touch the tuber. So the 18th-century monarch resorted to trickery. He placed royal guards and soldiers along the edge of his palace garden — thus creating the illusion that potatoes were a rare and valuable crop reserved for the royal family and its aristocratic friends. But the guards withdrew from their posts each night, creating an opportunity for enterprising locals to sneak in and 'steal' the spuds. Thus began Germany's love affair with the humble Kartoffel and Frederick's rebranding as Der Kartoffelkönig, the potato king. Except it's all fake. Bogus. Phony. Falsch! as the Germans would say. And debunking it is a royal pain for Jürgen Luh, historian of the Prussian Palaces and Gardens Foundation, even when history has receipts. Archives of royal menus show the king instead had a penchant for Italian food and French wine. 'He never ate it,' Luh said. 'Any potato. Not boiled, not fried.' The unexciting truth is that the potato has been cultivated in Germany's Bavarian region since 1647, Luh said. Frederick's great-grandfather, Elector Frederick William, introduced it to the Brandenburg area of Prussia in the 1650s, but only because he liked the aesthetics of the plant's leafy greens. By the time Frederick the Great took the throne in 1740, the potato was grown in gardens throughout Prussia but not on a large scale. The king did actually issue royal decrees promoting the farming and production of potatoes, but his people ignored them. Potatoes did not become widespread in Prussia, in central and eastern Europe, until after the Napoleonic wars ended in 1815, after Frederick II's death in 1786. The guarded garden story, Luh said, is nonsense. And Frederick was more of a wannabe potato king than an actual one. But the fable has deep roots, and the myth makes money. To this day, visitors to Frederick's summer home of Sanssouci Palace in Potsdam , outside Berlin, leave raw potatoes and paper crowns on the king's grave. The palace's gift shops sell potato merchandise, from postcards and children's books to a 35-euro ($40) apron proclaiming the wearer as a Kartoffelkönig. Luh used to correct tour guides and visitors to the palace, but he's largely given up. Besides, he said, at least it means people are coming to Sanssouci and experiencing its rich history. 'The fact is that the legend has beaten the truth and the legend is just too beautiful,' he added. Whatever its roots, the potato is undeniably part of the German cultural identity . At Biohof Schöneiche, an organic farm outside Berlin, workers will harvest roughly 2,500 metric tons (5.5 million pounds) of potatoes come the annual September harvest. 'In most parts of the world, potatoes are considered a vegetable. In Germany it's a staple food,' general manager Axel Boehme said. 'People cannot imagine to have a meal without potatoes.' Regional recipes, passed down from every Oma (grandmother) to each new generation, debate the merits of a vinegar- or mayo-based Kartoffelsalat. From boiled (Salzkartoffeln) or pan-fried (Bratkartoffeln) to dumplings and pancakes (Kartoffelklösse and Kartoffelpuffer), the versatile vegetable is intertwined with the country's emotional heritage. For Anke Schoenfelder, project manager for German potato marking company Kartoffel-Marketing GmbH, her favorite tuber tradition is rooted in making Kartoffel-Karotten-Gugelhupf (potato and carrot Bundt cake) for family gatherings. 'Taste is memory, right? And when this is related to your family, this is even more part of your identity,' she said. Plus, Schoenfelder added, the potato can be used as a beauty product — the juice can be good for your skin, she says — or a household cleaner, for stubborn stains on the bottom of your oven. For now, Der Kartoffelkönig's legend lives on. As Luh was speaking to The Associated Press in front of the king's grave, two tourists placed their offerings of potatoes on the tomb. One even took a selfie as she did so. 'I always think I should go here in the evening when I have no potatoes at home,' the historian joked. 'I could take them away and have a good meal afterwards.' __ Kartoffel-Karotten-Gugelhupf (potato and carrot Bundt cake) From Kartoffel-Marketing GmbH , a German potato marking company. In true European fashion, the measurements provided refer to weight, not volume. You will need a 10-cup Bundt pan. Time: 90 minutes Serves: 12 Ingredients 9 oz (250g) high-starch potatoes (such as Russets and Maris Pipers) 9 oz (250g) carrots 1.7 fluid ounces (50 mL) carrot juice 1.7 fluid ounces (50 mL) sunflower oil 4 eggs (medium-size, room temperature) 7 oz (200g) sugar 1 packet vanilla sugar 4.5 oz (125g) almonds, ground 4.5 oz (125g) flour melted butter to grease the mold 2 tablespoons breadcrumbs Directions Wash the potatoes and boil them in salted water for about 20 to 25 minutes, until tender. Let them cool slightly, peel them, and then press them through a potato ricer into a bowl. Wash and peel the carrots and grate them finely with the potatoes, using a vegetable grater or a mandolin. Generously grease the Bundt pan with oil or butter. Coat the pan with some breadcrumbs. Preheat oven to 392°F (200°C) on the fan setting. Add carrot juice, sunflower oil, eggs, vanilla sugar, sugar, flour, baking powder and ground almonds to the mashed potatoes and grated carrots and mix with a hand mixer for about four minutes until a dough forms. Pour the potato-carrot cake batter into the prepared Bundt pan. Place the pan in the oven and bake for about 50 minutes until cooked through (if necessary, cover the pan with aluminum foil after half an hour to prevent the cake from burning). Let the cake cool completely (you can also do this on a balcony or terrace) before decorating it with icing. This is important, because otherwise the icing will seep into the cake. In a bowl, combine the powdered sugar and a little lemon juice until thickened. Pour the icing over the cooled cake and decorate with your preferred toppings like chocolate chips, for example. Let it rest a bit to allow the icing to set. Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
The Hill
4 hours ago
- The Hill
Generations of Germans believe Frederick the Great brought potatoes to Germany. It's a myth
POTSDAM, Germany (AP) — Generations of Germans believe Frederick the Great brought the beloved potato to Germany. The legend is this: King Frederick II of Prussia wanted his subjects to eat potatoes, introduced to Europe in the 16th century from South America. But the people of Prussia, which later became part of a united Germany, wouldn't touch the tuber. So the 18th-century monarch resorted to trickery. He placed royal guards and soldiers along the edge of his palace garden — thus creating the illusion that potatoes were a rare and valuable crop reserved for the royal family and its aristocratic friends. But the guards withdrew from their posts each night, creating an opportunity for enterprising locals to sneak in and 'steal' the spuds. Thus began Germany's love affair with the humble Kartoffel and Frederick's rebranding as Der Kartoffelkönig, the potato king. Except it's all fake. Bogus. Phony. Falsch! as the Germans would say. And debunking it is a royal pain for Jürgen Luh, historian of the Prussian Palaces and Gardens Foundation, even when history has receipts. Archives of royal menus show the king instead had a penchant for Italian food and French wine. 'He never ate it,' Luh said. 'Any potato. Not boiled, not fried.' The unexciting truth is that the potato has been cultivated in Germany's Bavarian region since 1647, Luh said. Frederick's great-grandfather, Elector Frederick William, introduced it to the Brandenburg area of Prussia in the 1650s, but only because he liked the aesthetics of the plant's leafy greens. By the time Frederick the Great took the throne in 1740, the potato was grown in gardens throughout Prussia but not on a large scale. The king did actually issue royal decrees promoting the farming and production of potatoes, but his people ignored them. Potatoes did not become widespread in Prussia, in central and eastern Europe, until after the Napoleonic wars ended in 1815, after Frederick II's death in 1786. The guarded garden story, Luh said, is nonsense. And Frederick was more of a wannabe potato king than an actual one. But the fable has deep roots, and the myth makes money. To this day, visitors to Frederick's summer home of Sanssouci Palace in Potsdam, outside Berlin, leave raw potatoes and paper crowns on the king's grave. The palace's gift shops sell potato merchandise, from postcards and children's books to a 35-euro ($40) apron proclaiming the wearer as a Kartoffelkönig. Luh used to correct tour guides and visitors to the palace, but he's largely given up. Besides, he said, at least it means people are coming to Sanssouci and experiencing its rich history. 'The fact is that the legend has beaten the truth and the legend is just too beautiful,' he added. Whatever its roots, the potato is undeniably part of the German cultural identity. At Biohof Schöneiche, an organic farm outside Berlin, workers will harvest roughly 2,500 metric tons (5.5 million pounds) of potatoes come the annual September harvest. 'In most parts of the world, potatoes are considered a vegetable. In Germany it's a staple food,' general manager Axel Boehme said. 'People cannot imagine to have a meal without potatoes.' Regional recipes, passed down from every Oma (grandmother) to each new generation, debate the merits of a vinegar- or mayo-based Kartoffelsalat. From boiled (Salzkartoffeln) or pan-fried (Bratkartoffeln) to dumplings and pancakes (Kartoffelklösse and Kartoffelpuffer), the versatile vegetable is intertwined with the country's emotional heritage. For Anke Schoenfelder, project manager for German potato marking company Kartoffel-Marketing GmbH, her favorite tuber tradition is rooted in making Kartoffel-Karotten-Gugelhupf (potato and carrot Bundt cake) for family gatherings. 'Taste is memory, right? And when this is related to your family, this is even more part of your identity,' she said. Plus, Schoenfelder added, the potato can be used as a beauty product — the juice can be good for your skin, she says — or a household cleaner, for stubborn stains on the bottom of your oven. For now, Der Kartoffelkönig's legend lives on. As Luh was speaking to The Associated Press in front of the king's grave, two tourists placed their offerings of potatoes on the tomb. One even took a selfie as she did so. 'I always think I should go here in the evening when I have no potatoes at home,' the historian joked. 'I could take them away and have a good meal afterwards.' __ From Kartoffel-Marketing GmbH, a German potato marking company. In true European fashion, the measurements provided refer to weight, not volume. You will need a 10-cup Bundt pan. Time: 90 minutes Serves: 12 9 oz (250g) high-starch potatoes (such as Russets and Maris Pipers) 9 oz (250g) carrots 1.7 fluid ounces (50 mL) carrot juice 1.7 fluid ounces (50 mL) sunflower oil 4 eggs (medium-size, room temperature) 7 oz (200g) sugar 1 packet vanilla sugar 4.5 oz (125g) almonds, ground 4.5 oz (125g) flour melted butter to grease the mold 2 tablespoons breadcrumbs Wash the potatoes and boil them in salted water for about 20 to 25 minutes, until tender. Let them cool slightly, peel them, and then press them through a potato ricer into a bowl. Wash and peel the carrots and grate them finely with the potatoes, using a vegetable grater or a mandolin. Generously grease the Bundt pan with oil or butter. Coat the pan with some breadcrumbs. Preheat oven to 392°F (200°C) on the fan setting. Add carrot juice, sunflower oil, eggs, vanilla sugar, sugar, flour, baking powder and ground almonds to the mashed potatoes and grated carrots and mix with a hand mixer for about four minutes until a dough forms. Pour the potato-carrot cake batter into the prepared Bundt pan. Place the pan in the oven and bake for about 50 minutes until cooked through (if necessary, cover the pan with aluminum foil after half an hour to prevent the cake from burning). Let the cake cool completely (you can also do this on a balcony or terrace) before decorating it with icing. This is important, because otherwise the icing will seep into the cake. In a bowl, combine the powdered sugar and a little lemon juice until thickened. Pour the icing over the cooled cake and decorate with your preferred toppings like chocolate chips, for example. Let it rest a bit to allow the icing to set.
San Francisco Chronicle
5 hours ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
Generations of Germans believe Frederick the Great brought potatoes to Germany. It's a myth
POTSDAM, Germany (AP) — Generations of Germans believe Frederick the Great brought the beloved potato to Germany. The legend is this: King Frederick II of Prussia wanted his subjects to eat potatoes, introduced to Europe in the 16th century from South America. But the people of Prussia, which later became part of a united Germany, wouldn't touch the tuber. So the 18th-century monarch resorted to trickery. He placed royal guards and soldiers along the edge of his palace garden — thus creating the illusion that potatoes were a rare and valuable crop reserved for the royal family and its aristocratic friends. But the guards withdrew from their posts each night, creating an opportunity for enterprising locals to sneak in and 'steal' the spuds. Thus began Germany's love affair with the humble Kartoffel and Frederick's rebranding as Der Kartoffelkönig, the potato king. Except it's all fake. Bogus. Phony. Falsch! as the Germans would say. And debunking it is a royal pain for Jürgen Luh, historian of the Prussian Palaces and Gardens Foundation, even when history has receipts. Archives of royal menus show the king instead had a penchant for Italian food and French wine. 'He never ate it,' Luh said. 'Any potato. Not boiled, not fried.' The unexciting truth is that the potato has been cultivated in Germany's Bavarian region since 1647, Luh said. Frederick's great-grandfather, Elector Frederick William, introduced it to the Brandenburg area of Prussia in the 1650s, but only because he liked the aesthetics of the plant's leafy greens. By the time Frederick the Great took the throne in 1740, the potato was grown in gardens throughout Prussia but not on a large scale. The king did actually issue royal decrees promoting the farming and production of potatoes, but his people ignored them. Potatoes did not become widespread in Prussia, in central and eastern Europe, until after the Napoleonic wars ended in 1815, after Frederick II's death in 1786. The guarded garden story, Luh said, is nonsense. And Frederick was more of a wannabe potato king than an actual one. But the fable has deep roots, and the myth makes money. To this day, visitors to Frederick's summer home of Sanssouci Palace in Potsdam, outside Berlin, leave raw potatoes and paper crowns on the king's grave. The palace's gift shops sell potato merchandise, from postcards and children's books to a 35-euro ($40) apron proclaiming the wearer as a Kartoffelkönig. Luh used to correct tour guides and visitors to the palace, but he's largely given up. Besides, he said, at least it means people are coming to Sanssouci and experiencing its rich history. 'The fact is that the legend has beaten the truth and the legend is just too beautiful,' he added. Whatever its roots, the potato is undeniably part of the German cultural identity. At Biohof Schöneiche, an organic farm outside Berlin, workers will harvest roughly 2,500 metric tons (5.5 million pounds) of potatoes come the annual September harvest. 'In most parts of the world, potatoes are considered a vegetable. In Germany it's a staple food,' general manager Axel Boehme said. 'People cannot imagine to have a meal without potatoes.' Regional recipes, passed down from every Oma (grandmother) to each new generation, debate the merits of a vinegar- or mayo-based Kartoffelsalat. From boiled (Salzkartoffeln) or pan-fried (Bratkartoffeln) to dumplings and pancakes (Kartoffelklösse and Kartoffelpuffer), the versatile vegetable is intertwined with the country's emotional heritage. For Anke Schoenfelder, project manager for German potato marking company Kartoffel-Marketing GmbH, her favorite tuber tradition is rooted in making Kartoffel-Karotten-Gugelhupf (potato and carrot Bundt cake) for family gatherings. 'Taste is memory, right? And when this is related to your family, this is even more part of your identity,' she said. Plus, Schoenfelder added, the potato can be used as a beauty product — the juice can be good for your skin, she says — or a household cleaner, for stubborn stains on the bottom of your oven. For now, Der Kartoffelkönig's legend lives on. As Luh was speaking to The Associated Press in front of the king's grave, two tourists placed their offerings of potatoes on the tomb. One even took a selfie as she did so. 'I always think I should go here in the evening when I have no potatoes at home,' the historian joked. 'I could take them away and have a good meal afterwards.' __ Kartoffel-Karotten-Gugelhupf (potato and carrot Bundt cake) From Kartoffel-Marketing GmbH, a German potato marking company. In true European fashion, the measurements provided refer to weight, not volume. You will need a 10-cup Bundt pan. Time: 90 minutes Serves: 12 Ingredients 9 oz (250g) high-starch potatoes (such as Russets and Maris Pipers) 9 oz (250g) carrots 1.7 fluid ounces (50 mL) carrot juice 1.7 fluid ounces (50 mL) sunflower oil 4 eggs (medium-size, room temperature) 7 oz (200g) sugar 1 packet vanilla sugar 4.5 oz (125g) almonds, ground 4.5 oz (125g) flour melted butter to grease the mold 2 tablespoons breadcrumbs Directions Wash the potatoes and boil them in salted water for about 20 to 25 minutes, until tender. Let them cool slightly, peel them, and then press them through a potato ricer into a bowl. Wash and peel the carrots and grate them finely with the potatoes, using a vegetable grater or a mandolin. Generously grease the Bundt pan with oil or butter. Coat the pan with some breadcrumbs. Preheat oven to 392°F (200°C) on the fan setting. Add carrot juice, sunflower oil, eggs, vanilla sugar, sugar, flour, baking powder and ground almonds to the mashed potatoes and grated carrots and mix with a hand mixer for about four minutes until a dough forms. Pour the potato-carrot cake batter into the prepared Bundt pan. Place the pan in the oven and bake for about 50 minutes until cooked through (if necessary, cover the pan with aluminum foil after half an hour to prevent the cake from burning). Let the cake cool completely (you can also do this on a balcony or terrace) before decorating it with icing. This is important, because otherwise the icing will seep into the cake. In a bowl, combine the powdered sugar and a little lemon juice until thickened. Pour the icing over the cooled cake and decorate with your preferred toppings like chocolate chips, for example. Let it rest a bit to allow the icing to set.
