Creamed Garden Potatoes and Peas

Three weeks and some days with Tyler and I think this is real. I am going to let myself say that in this private way: this is real.

He came to Prattville again on Friday and we walked through the neighborhood and I showed him the azaleas that bloom on the street two blocks over and the old oak that the kids at the daycare use as a reference point. He is easy to walk with. He does not need to fill silence with words. We walked for an hour and talked when we had something to say and it was not uncomfortable to have quiet between us, which is how I know.

I called Gloria on Saturday and told her more than I had told her yet. About the phone calls and the peaches and the shrimp and grits and the walking. She listened to all of it and then she said: does he make you feel like you have to explain yourself. I said no. She said does he push where you are not ready. I said no. She said good. She said a man who does not rush you is a man who is sure of himself. I thought about that. I think she is right.

I made a lemon ricotta pasta on Sunday, light and springlike and exactly the right thing for a warm May afternoon: fresh pasta, ricotta, lemon zest and juice, a handful of fresh peas, good parmesan, a drizzle of the best olive oil I have. Simple. The kind of dish that trusts the quality of its ingredients. I ate it at Gloria's and felt entirely present in my own life, which is not something I have always been able to say.

That Sunday felt like the first day I had been fully inside my own life in a long time — Gloria’s table, the afternoon light, the easy quiet that had settled in after our walk the day before — and I wanted the food to match that feeling: nothing fussy, nothing that required me to prove anything. The creamed potatoes and peas I put together carried the same spirit as that lemon pasta I described: fresh peas from the market, a cream sauce that doesn’t overthink itself, tender potatoes that just need a little time and attention. It is the kind of cooking that trusts its own simplicity, and on a day like that, that was exactly enough.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs small red or Yukon Gold potatoes, halved or quartered into bite-sized pieces
1 cup fresh or frozen garden peas
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups whole milk, warmed
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped

Instructions

Boil the potatoes. Place the potatoes in a medium saucepan and cover with cold salted water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and cook until just fork-tender, about 12—14 minutes. Drain and set aside.
Cook the peas. If using fresh peas, add them to the boiling water in the last 2 minutes of the potatoes’ cook time, then drain together. If using frozen, thaw and set aside — they will warm through in the sauce.
Build the cream sauce. In a wide skillet or saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 4—5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 30 seconds more until fragrant.
Make the roux. Sprinkle the flour over the onion mixture and stir constantly for 1 minute to cook out the raw flour taste. Slowly pour in the warmed milk, whisking as you go to prevent lumps. Add the heavy cream and continue to stir until the sauce thickens to a consistency that coats the back of a spoon, about 3—4 minutes.
Season. Stir in the salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.
Combine. Gently fold the drained potatoes and peas into the cream sauce. Stir to coat evenly and let everything warm together over low heat for 2 minutes.
Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving bowl and scatter the fresh parsley over the top. Serve warm as a side or a light main alongside crusty bread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Creamed Garden Potatoes and Peas — The Kind of Simple That Trusts Itself