KP+: Mashed Potato Pie
A blue ribbon Thanksgiving side dish
Every now and again, something really gets under my skin. It's the same thing that happened when I decided to put a trifle INSIDE jelly and when I felt it was my responsibility to bring a DIY vienetta into the world. Last week, I had an unshakeable desire to create a Thanksgiving side dish to end all Thanksgiving side dishes: Enter the mashed potato pie. Crispy rösti crust, smooth mashed potatoes, a crispy top. How hard could it be?!
Though a lot of flack gets thrown toward 'traditional' American food, I don't think there's anything monstrous about it. No, I'm not even bothered by the sweet potato marshmallow thing, nor the gloopy cans of condensed mushroom soup my fiance brings back from Minnesota each year for the classic green bean casserole. But there's something incredibly camp and kitsch about Thanksgiving cuisine that simply cannot be denied. I wanted to lean into this and come up with my own side dish.
Though my fiance and I aren't rushing to create 'new' traditions - I think traditions aren't something you can force - I do like the idea of adding an novel, utterly insane dish to our Thanksgiving menu that will, for years to come, be something that people might associate with celebrating at ours. Perhaps this mashed potato pie will be the first of many oddities that come to represent us.
Sidebar: On one of our first-ever potluck Thanksgiving, I made a hideous concoction called 'scotched sweet potatoes', which were deep-fried sweet potato balls with a marshmallow inside and, I think, lucky charms or some other kind of cereal on the outside. It's safe to say this did not make the cut.
The pie
I wanted to challenge myself to create a mashed potato pie that was 1) entirely potatoes, 2) could be sliced when warm, 3) was a beauty to look at and 4) was an acceptable substitute for actual mashed potatoes, with enough truth to the original dish that you wouldn't be shamed for presenting them in place of a dish of mashed potato.
Making this dish took a lot more tries than I thought it would. I was hoping it would be a 'one and done' situ; I mean, how hard could it be? The original vision was always to do a rösti-style crust of grated potato. I first saw this in a cafe called 'Sovereign Grounds' in Minneapolis near Lake Nokomis, and it's captured me ever since. Can you imagine the possibilities? Could someone PLEASE create a full English breakfast pie with a rösti crust, for example?
The next layer would be mash, either a sloppy, rich pomme puree OR a more classic mash. Either way, this layer couldn't be messed with too much. And on top, I'd always envisioned a crown of thinly sliced, scalloped potatoes which could go crispy in the oven.
The rösti crust
I've made rösti before, but not memorably. I know that you're supposed to grate, salt, and then squeeze the moisture out of the potatoes. I don't have many sensory issues in the kitchen. Still, I actually really do not enjoy squeezing raw potatoes nor picking off little bits of grated potato from my soggy tea towel. I'll do it if a recipe calls for it, but I prefer to avoid it.
So, in absence of any of my own useful knowledge, I turned to my dear friend Jordon, who admirably took on the role of rösti hype man/spirit guide. Jordon has Swiss roots, and if you didn't know, rösti is Switzerland's national dish. He knew what he was talking about from the get-go. "The proper Swiss way is that you parboil them skin on, chill the potatoes, peel and grate them, season well, cook in clarified butter for a few minutes and then form them into shape and cook until crispy on both sides," he told me.