I have always felt a little sorry for mashed potatoes.
At Thanksgiving, they are simply expected to be there. Nobody gives them much thought until they aren't very good, at which point everyone has an opinion.
Maybe this is the year to give them a little more attention.
A mashed potato bar is hardly revolutionary. You’ve probably encountered one at a wedding somewhere, usually involving martini glasses and shredded cheddar. That is not what we're doing.
You know me better than that.
Start with Yukon Golds, plenty of good butter and warm heavy cream. Add crème fraîche for a little tang and pass everything through a ricer until gloriously silky. Do not use a food processor. You will make glue.
Keep the potatoes warm in a beautiful tureen and offer petite coupes or porcelain bowls.
Small portions, please. We have plans for them.
Caviar seems the natural place to begin. Osetra over warm potatoes with crème fraîche and finely snipped chives is one of life’s great little combinations. Set the tins into crushed ice with mother-of-pearl spoons and allow everyone to help themselves.
I know. This requires trust.
From there, it isn't much of a leap to butter-poached lobster with drawn butter, chives and perhaps another spoonful of caviar.
Could you leave off the caviar? Of course.
But after butter-poaching a lobster for your mashed potatoes, fiscal responsibility seems an odd place to rediscover yourself.
Jumbo lump crab with brown butter, lemon zest and chives keeps things pleasantly close to home, while red-wine-braised short rib with its jus and caramelized shallots gives us something deeper and richer.
Then we arrive at truffles, which is usually where good intentions about restraint begin to unravel.
Sauté wild mushrooms in butter and thyme, add Parmigiano-Reggiano and cultured butter, then finish with freshly shaved black truffle.
A little truffle goes a long way. This is useful information we can all choose to ignore.
If we've already come this far, seared foie gras with Madeira reduction and flaky sea salt would not be entirely out of place.
Excessive? Certainly.
But it is Thanksgiving. Someone has already put marshmallows on the sweet potatoes.
Round things out with roasted garlic confit, crispy prosciutto, aged Gruyère, fried sage, chive blossoms, crème fraîche, cultured butter and very good sea salt.
Now, a little visual discipline.
This cannot look like a hotel breakfast buffet.
Arrange the toppings in silver bowls, crystal dishes and white porcelain. Nestle the caviar into crushed ice, put out mother-of-pearl spoons and keep warm toppings in small covered dishes. The ingredients are doing quite enough already; the presentation doesn't need to shout.
A few discreet cards can suggest combinations, but don't become authoritarian about it. Someone will inevitably put lobster, short rib, truffle and caviar on the same potato.
That person is living his truth.
Finally, position the whole operation near the Champagne.
Or the martinis.
Or both.
Yes, it may all be more than the potatoes strictly require.
But so are marshmallows on sweet potatoes, and no one seems terribly concerned about those.
After butter-poaching a lobster for your mashed potatoes, fiscal responsibility seems an odd place to rediscover yourself.