Potassium phosphate dibasic hardly feels like a new find, even though its understanding has grown over time. Early chemists sifting through plant ashes caught wind of phosphate salts, but it took a fair bit of trial and error to tell the three potassium phosphates apart. Researchers tinkering with fertilizer recipes in the 19th century landed on dibasic potassium phosphate as a sweet spot for feeding crops without setting off soil imbalances. Its role in food processing and buffer solutions grew quietly but steadily after that. Whenever science classrooms stock up on chemicals or hospitals prepare IV bags, there’s a line stretching back to those early days spent with retorts and test tubes.
K2HPO4 brings together potassium and phosphate in a clear, easily measured form. You get a white crystalline powder—stable, odorless, and easily stored. Unlike some compounds that ask for delicate handling or fancy sealing, K2HPO4 sits in laboratories and production sites without much fuss. It dissolves without complaint in water, creating both potassium and phosphate ions, which are both important in fields ranging from agriculture to medicine. The blend of elements makes it work well for buffering pH, supplying plant nutrients, preventing food spoilage, and even stabilizing biochemical tests.
You notice right away that K2HPO4 holds its ground at room temperature—no caking, no weird color changes. The powder is white and granular, sometimes a fine crystalline form, and it doesn’t give off any scent. It packs a molecular weight of nearly 174 g/mol. In water, it jumps to dissolve, letting out a slight alkaline character that comes in handy in pH regulation. Its melting point floats above 200°C where it starts to decompose rather than simply melt. Unlike its more acidic or basic cousins, K2HPO4 manages stability under most storage conditions—so it slides right into the shelves of classrooms, food plants, and fertilizer stores.
Every bag or bottle will set out key information: purity levels, water content, assay on the active substance, and trace metal levels. For food-grade K2HPO4, the US FDA has strict codes on labeling, expecting clear chemical names, batch information, and grade designation. Laboratories lean on reagent-grade labeling, making sure any contaminants sit well below the ppm mark, especially if the compound will end up near diagnostic tests or controlled reactions. Storage advice follows on the label—keep it dry, seal after opening, and, for industrial use, mind the stacking limits to keep bags from breaking open.
Anyone making K2HPO4 at any scale tends to start with phosphoric acid and potassium carbonate or potassium hydroxide. Add controlled portions of the base—sometimes in a jacketed tank, sometimes in glassware—to phosphoric acid, heat it gently, and the reaction runs to completion. Industrial plants shift the ratios to get dibasic versus monobasic or tribasic salts. After cooling, the dissolved K2HPO4 can be evaporated down or even spray-dried to pull out the desired grade. The final crystals get washed and dried, giving that clean, pourable white powder.
K2HPO4 steps into buffer mixes and complex salt formulations. Drop it into water with its monobasic or tribasic siblings, and you can fine-tune pH across a broad range. It won’t break down in normal lab reactions, so researchers can count on it for stability, even when enzymes, proteins, or minerals would make a mess out of other buffers. In fertilizer mixes, it often partners with ammonium or calcium salts to balance out nutrient delivery. For food phosphate blends, manufacturers tweak the ratio of mono-, di-, and tribasic salts to handle textures and shelf life in products like processed cheese or canned fish.
Potassium phosphate dibasic picks up a handful of names. You’ll see Dipotassium hydrogen phosphate, Dipotassium phosphate, or K2HPO4 on safety sheets or in supplier catalogs. Outside the chemistry crowd, the food sector sometimes just calls it E340(ii). Technical sheets might run into “potassium hydrogen phosphate” and “phosphate buffer, potassium, pH 9”. No matter the synonym, most bags trace back to a few big chemical plants, although labeling and purity can vary by region and market.
So much use in food, feed, and pharmaceuticals doesn’t come without scrutiny. Workers handling K2HPO4 ought to wear gloves and face masks to dodge the dust—skin contact leads to mild irritation, and eye contact can sting. Material safety data sheets flag its classification as “generally recognized as safe” for ingestion in small quantities but warn against prolonged inhalation or contact during manufacturing or repacking. Industrial audits focus less on toxicity and more on keeping production lines from mixing in other salts or metals that could wreck batch consistency. Cleanup for spills simply means sweeping up and keeping the powder dry until disposal.
Walk across sectors and you’ll see this compound at work. Agriculture leans on K2HPO4 as a balanced fertilizer, feeding both potassium-hungry and phosphate-hungry crops. Food processing uses it as an “emulsifier” and buffer, keeping cheese spreadable or letting canned meats keep their color. Medical labs depend on it for buffer solutions in blood testing, IV fluids, and some pharmaceutical preparations. Water treatment systems trust it to lock up calcium and magnesium, scrubbing out water hardness. Even breweries and soft drink plants quietly count on its regulatory effects on pH and mineral balance. In every case, its easy mixability and lack of off-flavors make a difference.
In my lab days, we would often lean on K2HPO4 for experiments needing predictable pH, especially in enzyme work or protein crystallization tests. R&D labs stretch the limits, blending it with other cations for custom fertilizers or even plugging it into bio-reactors for specialty nutrient feeds. Ongoing research tackles how tweaks in the phosphate mix impact product shelf life and nutritional value, especially in animal feed. Pharmaceutical pipelines keep testing its role in stabilizing proteins for new drug formulas, hoping K2HPO4 will offset the denaturing tendency of some biological molecules.
Every widely used material attracts safety studies. Teams across agriculture and medicine conducted animal studies to see if chronic exposure caused organ stress or toxicity. At doses approved for food or drugs, scientists haven’t flagged significant risks, but overdosing in animal feed led to kidney problems from too much potassium or phosphate. Human case reports rarely touch K2HPO4 unless someone mistakes a chemical-grade product for a food-grade one, leading to digestive upset or, at worst, salt imbalances. Testing still runs on routes of exposure—especially inhalation of dust or accidental eye contact—along with checking for contaminants like heavy metals or arsenic in finished batches.
Eyes turn to K2HPO4 as food security and environmental regulation tighten. Plant scientists test it for low-runoff fertilizers that slow the loss of phosphate from soil into rivers and lakes. In medicine, new delivery systems for minerals and electrolytes are under review, many banking on the stability that K2HPO4 offers. Biotech companies look for ways to recycle phosphates and cut overall chemical waste, often using this compound as a benchmark for recovery rates. Researchers test greener synthesis routes, maybe using plant waste or new catalysts, chasing both lower energy use and fewer by-products. Demand for buffer salts won’t drop off anytime soon, so finding more sustainable sources and smarter blends looms large for future industry moves.
Potassium phosphate dibasic, with the chemical formula K2HPO4, sounds like something you’d find stashed in a high school chemistry closet. In reality, this compound pops up everywhere from hospitals to kitchens. What stands out about potassium phosphate dibasic is the double punch of potassium and phosphate—the kind that crops and humans both need in daily life.
You wouldn’t hand out a pill without knowing what it does, and pharmaceutical use forms a big piece of the story here. Hospitals routinely mix potassium phosphate dibasic into IV fluids for people struggling with low potassium (hypokalemia) or low phosphate (hypophosphatemia) levels. Just about anyone who’s spent time hooked up to a drip knows the importance of keeping electrolytes balanced. Without the right mix, muscles sputter, nerves misfire, and the heart goes into the wrong sort of rhythm.
Potassium helps nerves fire and muscles work, including that all-important heart muscle. Phosphate steps up for energy—the kind packed in ATP, which every living cell uses like currency. Doctors prefer potassium phosphate dibasic over other supplements in emergency and long-term care because it delivers both elements at the same time. That’s not something you find in every salt compound.
Fields hungry for nutrients often get a boost from fertilizers that include potassium phosphate compounds. Farmers choose products like K2HPO4 to help crops grow, especially in soils low in available potassium or phosphate. Plants don’t negotiate; they either have enough nutrients or they underperform. Supplementing the field staves off weak harvests and helps keep food supplies reliable.
Food manufacturers have their eye on potassium phosphate dibasic, too. In processed cheeses, powdered drinks, and even canned meats, it helps improve flavor, keeps mixtures from turning gritty, and protects color. Walk down a grocery aisle and the code “E340(ii)” often shows up on ingredient lists. Food scientists appreciate the way this compound stabilizes pH and supports shelf life. It’s an underappreciated preservative, working behind the scenes.
Too much of anything creates trouble, and potassium phosphate dibasic is no different. People with kidney challenges struggle to clear excess potassium from the blood, which means dietary and medical oversight is a must. In food, health agencies keep close tabs on intake because both phosphate and potassium can throw body chemistry off balance if they pile up.
Environmental runoff from fertilizer use creates another layer of concern. Rain sweeps leftover phosphate into rivers and lakes, fuelling algae blooms that smother water ecosystems. This isn’t a distant, theoretical risk—major lakes in the US and Europe combat this problem year after year. Smarter application methods or controlled-release products offer a path forward, reducing the risk without stripping fields of productivity. Regular soil tests, precision farming equipment, and tighter regulations have started to make a dent.
Some chemicals fade with time, replaced by newer and shinier alternatives. Potassium phosphate dibasic makes the cut in medicine, agriculture, and food tech because it works in more than one setting. Many of us pass by products containing references to this compound every day, often without noticing. Yet the combination of medical utility and agricultural benefit ensures it keeps a spot in both labs and farm supply stores—at least until something better turns up.
Every time I crack open a jar labeled Potassium Phosphate Dibasic, my first thought is usually, “What’s the level of purity here, and why does it even matter?” I’ve spent enough time in labs and seen enough product datasheets to know that not all white powders are created equal. Chemical purity isn’t just a box to check — it changes everything for those of us who rely on trust in results. Ask any researcher who has replated cells after a bad buffer or any process chemist who saw an unwanted color in the distillate. Purity gets personal pretty fast.
Companies stamp all sorts of designations on potassium phosphate dibasic: “ACS grade,” “reagent grade,” “food grade,” “technical grade,” and so on. Each label brings a different world of possibility — or risk. ACS grade means the chemical meets the standards of the American Chemical Society for trace metals and contaminants. In other words, most research labs take this level seriously, especially for sensitive work like molecular biology, HPLC buffers, or managing critical reagents for pharmaceuticals.
Reagent grade offers a respectable level of assurance for most analytical tasks, but folks working with animals or in food production probably run a mile from anything less than food or pharma grade. Food grade potassium phosphate dibasic often ends up thickening cheese sauces or helping with baking, but it’s not as clean as ACS. And technical grade? I’ve seen folks use it for treating boiler water or detergents, but anything beyond manufacturing tends to demand tighter specs.
I once worked in a lab where an experiment ran off track because of a low-cost off-brand batch that introduced enough contaminant to throw months of protein crystallization and pH measurements off. Labs expect the bottle to say, in black and white, the key impurities and their limits. Sodium, calcium, magnesium, trace heavy metals — these end up as tiny notes in specs, but their impact can be huge.
For anyone relying on potassium phosphate dibasic, not demanding the right purity means running blind. A study in the Journal of Food Chemistry recorded how impurity levels in lab chemicals led to replication failures and safety risks in processed foods. In medical labs, an unwelcome contaminant can throw off blood panel results or inject unexpected ions into cell buffers.
Too often I’ve watched colleagues skip the critical step of asking for a certificate of analysis. A little paperwork can spare a fortune in wasted time. Manufacturers who publish their full data sheets let you line up those impurity ppm readings against what your work can really tolerate. Most good vendors post PDFs right on their websites, and if they shy away from that, it’s a red flag.
Quality costs money, but the bigger cost comes from shortcuts. Everyone from bench scientists to food processors should push for full transparency, not just from suppliers, but inside their own organizations. If a product gets labeled “reagent grade” without proof, someone should speak up and demand numbers. Reviewing these purity grades and learning how to read an MSDS or specification sheet isn’t glamorous, but it heads off problems before they snowball. In the end, purity isn’t a luxury. It’s a foundation that keeps science, health, and industry honest.
Potassium phosphate dibasic sounds like something that only scientists deal with, but this chemical can show up anywhere from a high school classroom to a water treatment facility. A lot of folks just see another white powder, something quiet, something easy to forget about until it causes a problem. I’ve seen more than one understocked storage room where bins sit open and nobody checks expiration dates. That’s lazy risk.
Air and water might keep us alive, but they’ll ruin potassium phosphate dibasic before you notice. This powder soaks up moisture like a sponge, and if a lid slips or humidity rises, you’ll end up with caked-up lumps that never dissolve the way you need. In schools and food labs, batches of failed experiments usually come down to one thing: some old jar left half-open. Moisture doesn’t just change texture—it leads to hard clumps, slower mixing, and sometimes unpredictable results.
Even a little spill or cross-contamination can mess up data, damage equipment, and force entire groups to toss out hours of work. I’ve worked around enough messy storage closets to know that someone always forgets the basics: keep the lid tight, store it somewhere dry, and don’t let dust or residue collect in the jar’s threads.
Sunlight might not explode potassium phosphate dibasic, but long exposure degrades most chemical compounds over time. Nobody likes surprises, especially during a procedure. I always keep containers in cabinets or drawers, and I put a little sign on the door with a “keep closed” reminder for the absent-minded in the room.
High temperatures in a storage area do more harm than you’d think. I once watched a batch of chemical stock go bad after sitting too close to a boiler for a whole summer. Potassium phosphate dibasic won’t catch fire by itself, but heat speeds up breakdown and wrecks accuracy for tests later. Reliable storage always means somewhere cool, well below 30°C (86°F). In stuffy rooms, I set up a fan or move chemicals to a lower shelf away from vents and sunlight.
A missing label might seem minor, but without it nobody knows what’s inside or whether it’s expired. Old handwriting or faded tape fooled more than one coworker I knew. Printing clear, easy-to-read labels prevents accidents and protects people during emergencies. If I spot a mystery jar or faded label, I toss it instead of taking the risk.
Properly storing potassium phosphate dibasic isn’t just about following rules—it protects the people who use it and saves time down the line. I favor sturdy, sealed containers and a spot at eye-level—not too high, so spills don’t hit anyone’s face, and not so low that someone trips on them. Regular checks cut down on waste and accidents. Everyone in the building carries some responsibility for keeping the space safe and tidy.
With a bit of care, a chemical like potassium phosphate dibasic causes no trouble. Lose focus, and problems snowball. That’s why a few habits—tight lids, clean hands, dry shelves, and clear labels—go a long way. Investing ten minutes to store chemicals right always beats scrambling to clean up a preventable mess.
If you’ve ever read the back of a package and wondered if what’s inside could really go into something you eat or take as medicine, you’re not alone. Food and drug safety isn’t just a matter for scientists in coats or regulators in big offices—it’s something that affects all of us, every day. I remember years ago, working in a grocery store, how shoppers would pick up products, squint at the label, and quietly ask me, “Is this really safe?” Those questions stuck with me.
As someone who’s followed recalls and product alerts more closely over the years, one thing stands out: safety standards in food and pharmaceuticals demand honesty and real proof. If you can’t find the product in a country’s official food additive list or a drug compendium, that raises some doubt. The product needs paperwork, testing records, and clear origins. Contamination and unverified ingredients put people at risk, and it’s a mistake to shrug that off.
Common sense says if a product comes from a factory with faded labels, or if nobody—seller or supplier—can explain the ingredients in plain words, it’s time to step away. Food and pharmaceuticals share this rule: nothing dodgy should go in. Gaps in quality control mean more than just a bad taste; they can put lives on the line. Years ago, I came across an article about tainted cough syrup exported to another country, leading to multiple deaths. The lesson hit hard. This isn’t just paperwork or red tape, it’s real people, real pain.
You can’t just declare something “safe.” It takes certificates that show good manufacturing practices and tests against things like heavy metals, pesticides, or microbes. For example, the FDA and EFSA maintain lists of approved substances. A product for food or drugs faces plenty more scrutiny than one used in, say, cosmetics. Sometimes companies hide behind “generally recognized as safe” or “natural”—yet those labels carry little weight without proof. I’ve talked with food entrepreneurs who lost big money when a supplier skipped key certifications and authorities pulled their products from shelves. Honesty upfront saves more than just money—it saves reputations and trust.
If you’re a buyer or a business, one way forward is to ask suppliers for third-party lab tests from labs with a good reputation, not just their own in-house checks. Contact the certifying agencies real people stand behind—don’t rely on digital stamps that anyone could fake. You can pull reports by lot and batch number, and you can call up references to see who’s actually using these products safely.
Local regulations might not line up with national or international standards. I’ve seen small businesses burned when imported goods met one country’s rules, but not another’s. Don’t just trust a “yes” answer. Push for evidence. If something’s for food or pharma, double-check with health authorities and official databases. Trust but verify: that rule built a lot of careers in public health, and it still works.
Everybody from the farmer to the pharmacist should be on guard for anything that seems off. Speaking as someone who’s seen the fallout from mistakes, I don’t want anyone to gamble with what ends up in our meals or medicine cabinets. Attention to detail, asking questions, and refusing shortcuts make all the difference in keeping families safe. It’s a team effort, and every step counts.
Potassium phosphate dibasic often shows up in labs, food factories, and pool maintenance closets. The white, salty powder looks mostly harmless. Still, the dust can sneak up on you, and skin or eye contact stings more than you’d expect. Sometimes folks shrug off the material because it’s used in nutrients and fertilizers, but everyday exposure isn’t the same thing as dumping a bag into a mixer up close.
Nobody loves goggles and a facemask. But stirring, moving, or pouring this stuff releases a cloud you probably don’t want in your lungs. Small, regular exposure dries out your throat and makes you cough. Bigger exposures cause shortness of breath and aggravate asthma. Wearing a NIOSH-approved dust mask, or at least a simple respirator, keeps most of the powder out of your airway. Good ventilation goes a long way, too. Just cracking open a window beats working in a stuffy back room, and a fume hood or extractor fan almost eliminates the problem.
Getting dust from potassium phosphate dibasic in your eyes burns, gets under your eyelids, and ruins your day. I learned the hard way during an experiment where I forgot my goggles. One simple slip and I spent a half hour with my face under a faucet. Since then, I always grab tight-fitting chemical goggles. Face shields help with bigger spills, but basic wraparound lab eyewear usually does the trick. Flushing with water for at least fifteen minutes is the only way to fix a mistake—eye drops and wincing won’t cut it.
Many folks try to “just be careful” instead of using gloves. Bad idea. Potassium phosphate dibasic dries the skin and causes irritation after a while. After days of handling, some people develop rashes or cracked skin. Simple nitrile or latex gloves block the powder entirely. Shirts with sleeves and pants keep stray dust from clinging to your legs. Every time, wash up with soap and water after you finish a job—don’t wait until your skin itches.
A little planning helps in case a bag or container tips over. Don’t reach for a broom right away; that spreads dust everywhere. Dampen the area, wipe it up, then mop with plenty of water. Toss used cloths in a bin marked for chemical waste. Never mix leftovers down the drain unless you’re sure the water system can handle it—some facilities require neutralization steps. After a few clean-up jobs, you’ll spot mistakes before they happen.
This powder looks a lot like other white chemicals. Using sharp, clear labels on all containers reduces risk. Keep potassium phosphate dibasic in tightly sealed bins or bottles in a dry spot—moisture clumps it up and makes it tough to work with. Keep it far from acids or oxidizers, as mixing can trigger bubbling or even release heat. No reason to turn a stockroom into a chemistry experiment gone wrong.
Reading a safety data sheet before starting work saves headaches. Teaching new team members how to handle chemicals beats fixing accidents after the fact. Practice using the eyewash station and shower, so nobody hesitates in a crisis. Finally, treat every chemical with respect—even something as ordinary as potassium phosphate dibasic turns ugly if ignored. Small precautions take little time, and they save plenty of pain in the long run.
| Names | |
| Preferred IUPAC name | Potassium hydrogen phosphate |
| Other names |
Dipotassium hydrogen phosphate Dibasic potassium phosphate Potassium phosphate, dibasic Dipotassium phosphate Phosphoric acid, dipotassium salt |
| Pronunciation | /pəˈtæsiəm fəˈsfeɪt daɪˈbeɪs keɪ tuː eɪtʃ piː oʊ fɔːr/ |
| Identifiers | |
| CAS Number | 7758-11-4 |
| Beilstein Reference | 3566608 |
| ChEBI | CHEBI:84916 |
| ChEMBL | CHEMBL1201161 |
| ChemSpider | 16798 |
| DrugBank | DB09449 |
| ECHA InfoCard | 07b2c6c7-4ae6-4c9d-aabd-c5e9242df8e1 |
| EC Number | 231-834-5 |
| Gmelin Reference | 1904 |
| KEGG | C14314 |
| MeSH | D017748 |
| PubChem CID | 24450 |
| RTECS number | TC6615500 |
| UNII | VZ8ZGR76EE |
| UN number | UN 9149 |
| Properties | |
| Chemical formula | K2HPO4 |
| Molar mass | 174.18 g/mol |
| Appearance | White crystalline powder |
| Odor | Odorless |
| Density | 2.44 g/cm3 |
| Solubility in water | Easily soluble in water |
| log P | -4.1 |
| Vapor pressure | Negligible |
| Acidity (pKa) | 12.39 |
| Basicity (pKb) | 12.35 |
| Magnetic susceptibility (χ) | -59.0·10⁻⁶ cm³/mol |
| Refractive index (nD) | 1.332 |
| Dipole moment | 0 D |
| Thermochemistry | |
| Std molar entropy (S⦵298) | 174.1 J·mol⁻¹·K⁻¹ |
| Std enthalpy of formation (ΔfH⦵298) | −1567.6 kJ/mol |
| Std enthalpy of combustion (ΔcH⦵298) | -2959.0 kJ/mol |
| Pharmacology | |
| ATC code | B05XA09 |
| Hazards | |
| Main hazards | May cause eye, skin, and respiratory tract irritation. |
| GHS labelling | GHS07, GHS Hazard Statement: H319 |
| Pictograms | GHS07 |
| Signal word | Warning |
| Hazard statements | Hazard statements: Not a hazardous substance or mixture according to the Globally Harmonized System (GHS). |
| NFPA 704 (fire diamond) | 1-0-1 |
| Lethal dose or concentration | LD50 (oral, rat): 8,170 mg/kg |
| LD50 (median dose) | LD50 (oral, rat): 4,170 mg/kg |
| NIOSH | SQ3325000 |
| PEL (Permissible) | Not established |
| REL (Recommended) | 0.4 mg/m³ |
| IDLH (Immediate danger) | Not listed. |
| Related compounds | |
| Related compounds |
Potassium phosphate monobasic (KH2PO4) Potassium phosphate tribasic (K3PO4) Sodium phosphate dibasic (Na2HPO4) Sodium phosphate monobasic (NaH2PO4) |
