Wishbone Wishes 

• Derek Carlisle

Let's say it's Thanksgiving 2021, and I have just finished dining with you and your family or friends. After you've finally gotten over how strange it was to have the food writer for City Weekly just show up at your dinner table, we have a moderately good time, and agree to compete in the age-old wishbone pull.

Though you put up a stalwart effort, it's my yank that secures the bigger piece of the turkey bone. After knocking over a precious heirloom vase during my victory lap around the dinner table and getting kicked out of your house, I stare at the calcified remnant in the cold November silence and make a wish. I wish for a perfect 2022 Thanksgiving menu furnished by some of our local culinary all-stars—and I guess you can come. Seeing as how I wrecked your vase and all.

To start, I want to talk sweet potatoes. I think all savory options at the Thanksgiving table should be able to double as desserts, and sweet potatoes are one of the only dishes that can pull that off without being disgusting. The Magic Potato at The Chocolate (9120 S. Redwood Road, 801-566-5330, thechocolate.cafe) is one of the few local dishes that truly take advantage of this sweet and savory alchemy. It's a roasted, buttery sweet potato coated in pecans and topped with brown sugar, liberal scoops of vanilla ice cream, and caramel. I'd have a whole serving plate full of these lovelies.

I know Utahns are super horny for dinner rolls around this time of year, but I'll take a couple trays of Mile High Biscuits from Ruth's Diner (4160 Emigration Canyon Road, 801-582-5807, ruthsdiner.com) over those yeasty bastards any day of the week. The fact that these come free with your meal at Ruth's is one of my favorite things about living in this state, so keep those coming all day long. I'll stuff whatever leftovers are still hanging around by Black Friday between one of these bad boys before I fling myself into the consumer abyss for cheap Blu-ray discs and a new flatscreen TV.

A salad should be present on principle, so I would go with the Meatball Salad from Moochie's (multiple locations, moochiesmeatballs.com) because, as you may have guessed, it's a salad with a big ass meatball in it. I picture this being served in a large delft blue salad bowl that showcases the peaks and valleys of a meatball and mozzarella mountain range.

As we get closer to the main course, it's time to pass the mashed potatoes. Though I love them, I've never had mashed potatoes that dazzle me to the point where I stop eating and whisper "fuck" to myself as I try to regain composure. But, only a few weeks ago, this describes my experience with the Mustard Potato Puree at Bambara (202 S. Main Street, 801-363-5454, bambara-slc.com). One whole third of my table space would be reserved for hot serving dishes overflowing with this wizardry.

Seems like I'm a bit light on the veggies, so let's fix that with some Shaved Brussels Sprouts from Porch (11274 Kestrel Rise Road, Ste. G, 801-679-1066, porchutah.com). It's a side dish that could hold its own on a table with these other rock stars, and the cider glaze in which they've been roasted would give the meal a nice acidic bite to cut through the layers of richness.

Now for the main course, and perhaps my hottest of hot takes: Get rid of the stuffed bird that has become the official Thanksgiving mascot. It's a pain in the ass to make properly, and the leftovers make the fridge smell like farts. Instead, I want a heaping plate of the smoked turkey sandwiches that they make at the Utah State Fair. I can't for the life of me remember the name of this barbecue vendor, but their thinly sliced smoked turkey slathered in homemade barbecue sauce has been the most satisfying interpretation of turkey that I've ever had. A giant platter piled high with these sandwiches would make me light up like a Christmas tree.

So what am I drinking throughout this dream-laden feast? I'll keep it simple and go with a bottle of bourbon from High West Distillery (27649 Old Lincoln Highway, Wanship, 435-649-8300, highwest.com). No need for bells and whistles—just set the bottle and a small glass of ice next to my fork and I'm good to go.

In reality, all of this deliciousness would be enough to put me into a food coma that lasted the rest of Thanksgiving weekend, but we're not living in reality right now, are we? So on to dessert. Here we'd have a loaded platter of hand pies from Pie Fight (937 E. 900 South, thepiefight.com), half of them Blueberry Lemon and the other half Cranberry Almond. A perfect sendoff for a perfect Thanksgiving meal.

At the end of the dinner, you'd forgive me for breaking that vase last year and tell me you actually hated it, and were glad it was gone. I'd tell you that I forgot about that ever happening but was sorry all the same. We'd clink our glasses of bourbon, turn on a slasher movie and sink into the couch. Slowly, the tryptophan, alcohol and warm glow of the TV would lull us to sleep, and we'd never have problems again.