Broiled Red Potatoes

Last week of the year. I've always thought New Year's was an overrated holiday — you don't need a calendar to tell you time is passing, you just need a mirror and a spine that didn't used to make that sound — but Connie likes to stay up, so we stay up. She fell asleep at eleven-forty on the couch and I watched the ball drop on the television by myself and thought: three hundred weeks. I've been writing this blog for three hundred weeks. That's five years and change of putting down Betty's recipes and my life alongside them, like the food and the living are the same thing, which they are. They always have been.

Made black-eyed peas for New Year's Day, the way Betty always did, the way every family south of the Mason-Dixon line always has. Dried peas soaked overnight, cooked with a ham hock from the Christmas ham — waste nothing, use the bones, Earl and Betty's first commandment — simmered low for three hours with onion and garlic and a pinch of red pepper flakes. Cornbread on the side. Collard greens cooked with a piece of fatback until they're silk. Black-eyed peas for luck. Greens for money. Cornbread for gold. I don't believe in any of it and I make it every year because belief isn't the point. The point is that Betty made it and her mother made it and the doing is the believing.

Connie and I ate the peas at the kitchen table on Saturday afternoon and she said, it's a new year, Craig. I said I noticed. She said what are you going to do about it? I said I'm going to eat these peas and hope for luck. She didn't laugh. She said you need to call the doctor. You need to call the disability office. You need to stop pretending this is something you can work through. I put my fork down, which is my version of a dramatic gesture, and I said I know. Two words. I know. And I did know. I've known since October when I couldn't pick up a two-by-four. I've known since the builder bought me that hamburger. I've known since Danny started running my crew while I sat in the truck like a man watching his own life from the passenger seat.

Two thousand twenty-two starts tomorrow. I don't know what it's bringing. But I know I'm fifty-three years old with a back that's done and hands that aren't and a wife who won't let me disappear into stubbornness. That's not nothing. That might be enough.

We had the peas and the greens and the cornbread, the way we always do, and they did what they were supposed to do — not bring luck, but bring us back to the table together. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned writing this blog for five years, it’s that the humble dishes matter as much as the storied ones. Broiled red potatoes: nothing fancy, nothing that requires anything of you, just honest heat and a little olive oil and something warm on your plate. After the week I’d had — after putting my fork down and saying “I know” for the first time out loud — that felt exactly right.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs small red potatoes, halved
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped (optional, for serving)

Instructions

Preheat the broiler. Set your oven to broil on high and position the rack about 6 inches from the heating element. Line a rimmed baking sheet with foil.
Par-cook the potatoes. Place the halved red potatoes in a pot, cover with cold salted water, and bring to a boil. Cook 10–12 minutes until just fork-tender but not falling apart. Drain well and pat dry.
Season. In a large bowl, toss the drained potatoes with olive oil, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, pepper, and smoked paprika until evenly coated.
Arrange cut-side down. Spread the potatoes cut-side down in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Press them flat so they have good contact with the pan.
Broil. Broil for 8–10 minutes, watching closely, until the cut sides are deeply golden and the edges are crisped. Do not walk away — broilers work fast.
Serve. Transfer to a plate and scatter with fresh parsley if you’re using it. Serve immediately while hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Broiled Red Potatoes — Simple Food for a New Year That Asks Nothing of You