Milk Street's Ultimate Guide to Mashed Potatoes

Between my years working in restaurants and my (almost) three decades as a recipe developer, not to mention home cooking, I think I’ve cooked more than a metric ton of mashed potatoes, easy. Most of those batches have been delicious, some not so much, some downright disasters, but all are educational. Despite the seeming simplicity—squishing starchy potatoes with fat and dairy—there’s a lot of science and technique involved in making mashed potatoes.

You can boil or bake, mash or rice, flavor with herbs or keep it classic. Then there are the dairy options. Butter, milk, heavy cream, half & half, sour cream, yogurt, and crème fraîche all have their merits, but how much dairy is too much dairy? And how do you strike the perfect balance of creamy and fluffy, without obscuring the flavor of the potato? (Don’t let anyone gaslight you into thinking potatoes don’t have a flavor. Depending on the variety, they can be subtly sweet, buttery, earthy, nutty and pleasantly bitter.)

Which potato should I use?

It all comes down to the texture you’re going for, which hinges greatly on the number of starch granules in each potato. The granules swell when the potatoes cook in water, which creates space in the flesh of the spud and results in a fluffier mash.

Starchy russets are the usual choice, producing the fluffiest results, thanks to their high ratio of starch, but I’ll take the underdog: Yukon Golds. Waxy and buttery toned (and with fewer starch granules), they make a smooth and velvety puree that—to my taste—tastes sweeter and more potatoey than Russets. Save the red skin potatoes for roasting; they easily turn to glue, due their ratio of amylose to amylopectin.

Our fluffiest mash: Butter-Braised Mashed Potatoes

These potatoes are braised in a load of butter—18 tablespoons of it—which not only flavors them, but keeps them light and fluffy. Other than butter, all you need is a few pounds of russets, salt and pepper, and just enough water to cover the cubed spuds in a Dutch oven. There’s no cream or milk. Instead, the potatoes simmer in a minimal amount of water that is cooked down to a starchy slurry, instead of being washed down the drain, so all the potato flavor stays in the pot.

The butter—all of the butter—is added at the same time as the water. As the fat melts, it coats the potatoes’ starch molecules and prevents them from becoming gluey, which preserves the fluff and safeguards against over-mashing.

Unsurprisingly, they’re decadent and buttery; shockingly, they’re not the least bit greasy.

Our creamiest mash: Milk-Simmered Mashed Potatoes

Most mashed potato recipes start with a big pot of salted water, but our these take a different route. Instead of water, we simmer Yukons in whole milk. The starch combines with the liquid dairy as it reduces, thickening the mash and rendering it creamy without any cream. And, since there’s no need for draining, you get a pronounced potato flavor, heightened with a few tablespoons of butter.

How to peel, prep and cook the potatoes

Ingredients are only one variable. How you treat the potato—before, during, and after cooking—also affects the outcome.

Do I have to peel them?

Peeling mostly comes down to personal preference. Russets, especially larger russets, often have thick skins, which can be a little much in the mix. There’s also the matter of dirt—it can take some elbow grease to get the skins scrubbed clean enough to be palatable. Yukon Gold skins are more tender and have a lot of flavor, so I tend to leave them on. (Also, if you sieve or rice your potatoes, much of the skin will come off in the process).

Bake or boil?

Baking dries the potato’s starches out better than boiling, but takes time and hogs precious oven space. Some claim that encasing the potatoes in a salt crust sucks out all the moisture and produces the fluffiest potatoes, but our testing proved inconclusive (and it’s really wasteful!). If you do want to give baking a go, poke them liberally with a skewer (so that they don’t explode) and bake on the middle oven rack at 425℉ until they pierce easily with little resistance, about an hour or so. Slice the top end to end and open up, and fluff the flesh up to allow steam to escape.

If boiling, leave whole or in large chunks so that the potatoes absorb the least amount of water. Once tender—i.e., can be easily pierced with a knife, which will slide in and out with little resistance—drain them, then put them back in the pan or plop the colander over the hot pot to make use of the residual heat and drive off the excess moisture. Remember, the whole point of mashed potatoes is replacing flavorless water with butter, cream and milk.

Hot start or cold? And what about salt?

Here’s a hard and fast cooking rule for you: If it grows above ground, it goes into boiling water. If it grows under ground, it starts cold. A slow start allows the heat to gradually make its way across the potato's dense flesh, giving the pectin time to firm up slowly rather than seize.

Salting the water is a must. Like pasta, potatoes absorb much of their seasoning during the cooking process. If you don’t salt the cooking water well, the salt will merely coat the potato rather than penetrate inwards.

Season the water the same as you would your pasta water. Not salty as the sea! More salt will get added along with the dairy and salted butter (if using, and we certainly recommend that you do). Aim for about 2 tablespoons of kosher salt per every 4 quarts of water.

To mash or not to mash?

When is a mashed potato not a mashed potato? When it’s riced or sieved.

As with most things mashed potato, it comes down to personal preference. If you like some chunk to your mash, go ahead and use that masher. A coarse mash provides contrast—starchy bits offset the rich puree, but it's not for those among us who much prefer a smooth, silky puree. For that, I use a ricer or sieve and force the fluffy potatoes through.

Whatever you choose, no food processor. The whirling blade will turn your starchy mash to glue.

The velvety mash that breaks all the rules: French Mashed Potatoes (Pommes Purée)

The process of making pommes purée typically is laborious, but during a visit to L’Office, a bistro in Paris, we learned a better way from chef Julia Totzauer. She bakes whole potatoes on a bed of salt, sieves them while hot, dries them in a saucepan, then whisks in hot milk followed by cold butter. Her technique breaks common mashed-potato rules (melted butter before milk, mix only minimally), yet her pommes purée was supple and luscious yet light. We simplified her technique, and the results are almost as good.

How to make the most flavorful mash

Buttery potatoes, accented with thyme, makes for a lovely bite, but no one wants tiny leaves in their mash. Here’s my best advice for making a perfectly seasoned, just-salty-enough bowl of mashed potatoes that’s infused with flavor.

Butter, heavy cream or milk?

All dairy is on the table, so to speak. (Joel Robuchon’s famous potato puree contains a 50:50 butter to potato ratio!) If in doubt, go with half and half. While it's actually not equal parts cream and milk, it is a reasonable balance between the two. And, unless you’re following a particular recipe, this comes down to personal taste. I’ll even sometimes add creme fraiche or buttermilk for a hint of acidity to cut the richness.

Two rules to (usually) follow: Melted butter always goes in before the liquid dairy; the fat coats the starches for the silkiest texture. And make sure any milk or half and half is hot so they’re more readily absorbed; cool milk results in a thicker, stodgier texture.

What about herbs?

While I like my mashed potatoes ultra-creamy and smooth, I do not like them plain. I need something to punch through the starch and cream (so you know how creamy and rich they are). We only know what things are by what they aren’t.

Fat conveys flavor, so I steep flavorings, like herbs, in the dairy used for the mashed potatoes. Just add things to the milk while its heating—again, hot dairy is essential for mashed potatoes—strain, add to the potatoes and mash. Totally fuss free.

So what to add? You want flavors that provide an accenting punch, though neutral enough to get along with the all the other stuff on the Thanksgiving table.

Herbs are my first choice. Bay leaves for starters, and vanilla enhances all things savory, in my opinion. Then advance to rosemary, sage, thyme, and/or winter savory. Chuck them in loose, or bind up into a bouquet garni for easy retrieval. Whole garlic cloves also can be poached in the milk, the mashed into the cream (or strained out if you just want a hint).

If feeling ambitious, add a couple anchovies and garlic for a bagna cauda-like flavor that's similar to brandade without the annoying—and smelly—desalting of the salt fish. This might be a bit much for turkey, but it's the pitch perfect accompaniment to the side of salmon I smoke each year instead of turkey. (I braise a couple legs for the traditionalists, but I'll take smoked salmon over turkey any day!)

Grated horseradish, fresh or jarred, adds welcome sharpness. Be careful—it’s acidic enough to curdle lower-fat milks. I recommend half and half or cream when adding horseradish.

Cheese might be a little much for Thanksgiving, but the best mashed potatoes I’ve ever had in my life, bar none, were from New Rivers Cafe, in Providence, RI, where I worked the line nearly three decades ago. The ultra-creamy mashed potatoes were laced with herbs and a little piquant Maytag Blue, then kept warm above the grill station, bathed in a steady stream of wood smoke. We all hoped that there would be some left after service to divvy up over a post-service beer.

Our most flavorful mash: Garlic and Herb–Infused Mashed Potatoes

Here we simmer garlic cloves and hardy herbs (thyme, rosemary, sage or bay—your choice) into the half-and-half. This means both water- and fat-soluble flavorings are captured by the dairy and easily mixed through the potato puree. We prefer pushing the cooked potatoes through a sturdy fine-mesh strainer to pressing with a ricer. The finished texture is perfectly smooth, and the cleanup is easier.

How do I keep them warm?

Mashed potatoes are at their best hot, but keeping them warm and creamy can be a challenge. Bust out the slow cooker or Instant Pot and pile the potatoes high. Extended heat will dry the potatoes out, so you may need to add additional dairy. Luckily, our Butter-Braised Mashed Potatoes are designed to be made ahead and reheated before serving; if timing is a big worry, they're very forgiving.

If you’re trying to keep a lot of dishes warm, there’s always your (gas) grill. Warmed up on low, line the grill grate with sheet pans or foil and line up your dishes.

But we also have a few mashes that keep themselves warm.

These potatoes keep their heat

We have two recipes that come with their own insulation: Turkish Mashed Potatoes with Garlic, Yogurt and Cheese (Patates Paçasi) and our Mashed Potato Gratin.

That first one is what I call "mashed potatoes for maximalists." They're rich with butter, half & half, yogurt and cheese. The yogurt is the real hero. It adds richness but it also adds acid, which cuts through the fat so your palate doesn’t get saturated (so you can eat more potatoes). A few eggs transform the normally scoopable mash into a sliceable casserole; four cloves of grated garlic up the savoriness.

It's all finished with a blanket of melted, browned cheese and a drizzle of fiery-red Aleppo pepper butter. Besides the obvious benefits of cheese—it tastes good—it keeps the potatoes warm while you transfer them! It’s like a built-in blanket for your casserole.

The second is our newest mashed potato dish, which you can see a cross section of above. It's a favorite among the indecisive. It combines two classics: mashed potatoes and cheese-topped potato gratin. Milk-simmered mashed potatoes are the base, sliced potatoes and shredded Gruyère are layered on top, then the casserole is baked until golden.

The blanket of shingled slices and bubbling cheese does its job so well, you can't serve this gratin fresh from the oven. Let it rest for about 20 minutes to allow the potatoes to firm up slightly. Even after 30 to 45 minutes, the gratin will be warm enough for serving.

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Matthew Card

Matthew Card is Milk Street’s Creative Director for Recipes and Products, resident coffee geek, knife collector and equipment junkie. He has 25-plus years of professional cooking, recipe development, food writing and teaching under his belt. When he’s not in the Milk Street kitchen or on the road hunting for new recipes and ideas, Matthew lives with his family in Canberra, Australia, where he does his best to dodge kangaroos on his mountain bike and is learning to love Vegemite.