Surveying the rich farmland and sweeping vistas outside Boise, Idaho, Zack Brown took a moment to digest the unfamiliar landscape. The native of Upper Arlington had just arrived there in a flatbed truck carrying a 70-foot-long concrete potato weighing 6 tons - like an Oscar Mayer Wienermobile for the au-gratin set.

Surveying the rich farmland and sweeping vistas outside Boise, Idaho, Zack Brown took a moment to digest the unfamiliar landscape.

The native of Upper Arlington had just arrived there in a flatbed truck carrying a 70-foot-long concrete potato weighing 6 tons - like an Oscar Mayer Wienermobile for the au-gratin set.

He later steered a tractor and, with his bare hands, dug the soil.

"I had never seen a potato come out of the ground before," said Brown, who, as a co-owner of a Short North Web-design company, spends most workdays behind a computer screen. "It was incredible."

The trip last week was made courtesy of the Idaho Potato Commission, whose executives and "tater team" representatives feted Brown - another perk rooted in digital satire.

His life-altering adventure effectively began on July 3, the day that the 31-year-old introduced a Kickstarter campaign seeking to raise $10 for ingredients to make potato salad.

His request on the crowd-funding website ("It might not be that good. It's my first potato salad") struck an offbeat chord and quickly went viral. By the time the campaign ended a month later, he had netted a whopping $55,492.

With media outlets worldwide gobbling up the story, the accidental entrepreneur appeared on Good Morning America in New York and was whisked from one cable-news studio to another.

Also wooing Brown: chefs; a literary agent (the working title for a proposed book is How To Win the Internet); and, during nights out in central Ohio, "very drunk" admirers seeking selfies and hugs.

All the attention raises the same question today that it did when the fuss first began: Seriously, potato salad?

"The Internet is weird sometimes," said Ethan Mollick, an assistant professor at the University of Pennsylvania's Wharton School who has studied Kickstarter.

A recipe blending a goofy premise, low participation cost and shared sense of ownership, Mollick said, "hit the sweet spot."

On Saturday, Brown will make good on his campaign obligations with PotatoStock 2014, an all-ages, charity-minded party at Columbus Commons featuring area bands, food trucks, beer vendors, potato-sack races and - yes - potato salad.

The Idaho Potato Commission and corporate sponsors such as Hellmann's mayonnaise have donated supplies for Brown and his team of volunteers to whip up 300 pounds of the creamy side dish - enough to feed the half-ounce samples promised to each of the thousands of Kickstarter donors throughout the world who gave at least $3.

That's assuming "the whole Internet," as invited by the host, attends.

Feverishly working to hash out final details of the event - to be presented by WWCD (102.5 FM) - Brown remained unsure whether the seeds of a widely shared online meme could sprout a successful event.

Stranger things have happened, though.

As Brown recalled: "We said, 'Here's the joke; if you enjoy the joke, give us some money.' And we made a ton of money."

Unexpectedly hot tater

A digital plea for donations to make potato salad might seem unfeasible.

And, only a few months ago, it was.

Kickstarter, a New York site that hosts funding platforms for creative projects, loosened its guidelines in June to allow all proposals to launch instantly without being reviewed by site administrators.

Brown, who conceived the idea at his office while messaging with friends via Google Chat, took advantage of the timing.

"You never know what's going to take off," said Justin Kazmark, a spokesman for Kickstarter, whose projects reach their goals 44 percent of the time. "This was just the Internet being the Internet."

Of the 175,000 projects hosted during the site's five-year history, Brown's potato-salad quest drew 4.1 million views - making it the fourth-most-viewed Kickstarter project. (A March 2013 campaign to fund a movie based on the canceled TV drama Veronica Mars - which raised $5.7 million - ranks third.)

Like all other Kickstarter projects, Brown's rewarded benefactors with incentives or prizes on a sliding scale; his ranged from a thank-you note (for a $1 contribution) to apparel ($110 or more).

The early addition of an Homage T-shirt - "I Just Backed Potato Salad" - in exchange for a $35 donation sent the campaign total surging to $35,000.

The spike prompted some online critics to liken Brown's fast fortune to winning the lottery and to demand that he give back the cash.

It's too much. This isn't a serious project. He didn't earn it.

Countered a writer for The New Yorker: "Brown should do whatever he wants with his money."

Brown, who attended the private Wellington School in Upper Arlington and Denison University in Granville, has said he intends to "do the most good that I can."

That attitude took hold during day two of the campaign, after the total had reached a then-shocking $1,000.

Last month, Brown partnered with the Columbus Foundation to start an endowment that will aid area charities that fight hunger and homelessness.

The account, started with $20,000 in post-campaign corporate donations, will grow after proceeds from PotatoStock are added. (Most of the Kickstarter money will be used to stage the Saturday event and fulfill backer incentives.)

"His fund will have potential way after this potato salad is forgotten," said Lisa Jolley, the foundation's director of donors and development.

Tuber humor

Brown's campaign, of course, was never about potato salad.

"I think it says something about how you can spread an idea now," said Brown, who, beyond his unexpected philanthropic role, hopes to use his newfound cachet to further his pursuits in comedy writing.

The older son of an ophthalmologist and a lawyer dabbled in drama as a youth and grew up idolizing Jerry Seinfeld.

"I really like wry, absurdist humor - the merging of very silly and very serious," he said.

In a way, said Brown's mother, Paula, the recent chain of events suits her son's disposition.

"This is the way Zack would tell a joke," said the 59-year-old, noting that her son handled the Kickstarter curveball "exactly like I thought he would."

In recent weeks, Brown has made witty YouTube videos playing on his bizarre influence ("Together, we're building a movement," a reflective Brown says in a sardonic clip resembling a motivational TED talk).

"He is a jokester, but he's also a very deep thinker," said friend Mike Stampler, 30, a wedding photographer from Grandview Heights who has worked on Brown's videos. "And I think he's definitely a lot more sensitive to criticism and to people's plights than he lets on."

Frances Krumholtz, Brown's girlfriend of three years and a participant in the fateful Google Chat thread, recognizes that potato salad - real or figurative - has a limited shelf life.

"I don't think there are any expectations this is going to last (beyond the endowment)," said Krumholtz, 28, an annual-giving coordinator for the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium.

"We're already two years past our welcome in Internet time."

Despite his limited experience in making potato salad, Brown does know his way around a kitchen. The Italian Village resident said he is partial to slow-cooker meals, notably a turkey chili made with quinoa and sweet potatoes.

As for the mammoth culinary task ahead, he won't be alone. He is counting on help from friends and guidance from the Columbus fast-casual chain Piada Italian Street Food, which is lending its commercial kitchen for PotatoStock prep.

The restaurant group also crafted the high-end potato-salad recipe - containing fresh basil pesto, sun-dried tomatoes and rich Montamore cheese - that will be served on Saturday.

Although Brown looks forward to a hiatus from potatoes ("Talking about them," he said, seeking to clarify - "I love eating them"), the excitement won't soon be forgotten.

"The thing that is the most shocking to me is how much I've enjoyed this from the word go," he said.

"I just had no idea this was something I was capable of."

kjoy@dispatch.com

@kevjoy