By I have perfected the art of one-handed cooking. Not metaphorically. Literally: I hold a baby with my left arm and operate a spatula or a can opener or a slow cooker lid with my right hand, and I have been doing this long enough that it no longer feels remarkable. It feels like Tuesday. It feels like the baseline operating condition of my life right now, and I have started writing it down, which is what I do when something is hard and also interesting: I make it into a blog post.
The post is called "One-Handed Cooking: A Survival Guide" and it is the most specific thing I have ever written. It covers: which slow cooker meals require the least setup, which pantry ingredients can be opened with one hand, how to drain pasta without putting the baby down (answer: do it before you pick the baby up), and which foods can be eaten over a baby's head without anything falling on them. The last point is more important than it sounds.
Patty watches both babies on Monday and Thursday so I can sleep in three-hour blocks, which is more restorative than it sounds and which I am profoundly grateful for in a way that I cannot fully express without getting embarrassing. Steve came with her on Thursday and they sat with Owen and Nora for five hours while I slept and then ate an actual meal sitting down and it felt like a vacation. This is what vacation is now: sleep and a hot meal.
Ryan and I had a real conversation on Sunday, not about feeding schedules or diaper counts or who had the last stretch of unbroken sleep. A real conversation, about a documentary he had watched at the firehouse, about whether we should repaint the hallway eventually, about what we thought the twins' personalities were going to be. Owen, we think, is going to be easy. Nora is going to keep us honest. We said this and Ryan laughed and I laughed and Owen slept through it and Nora opened one eye, which proved the point.
The slow cooker chapter of my survival guide exists because of recipes exactly like this one — things you can assemble in under ten minutes, slide into the oven, and walk away from while you hold a baby and have a real conversation about hallway paint colors. The Duo Tater Bake has earned permanent rotation in this house: it’s a true dump dinner, it feeds us with zero drama, and on the Thursday that Patty and Steve watched the twins and I got to eat sitting down, this was on the table. Hot, simple, and exactly enough.
Duo Tater Bake
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 medium russet potatoes, peeled and thinly sliced
- 2 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and thinly sliced
- 1 can (10.5 oz) cream of mushroom soup
- 1/2 cup sour cream
- 1/4 cup whole milk
- 1 tsp garlic powder
- 1/2 tsp onion powder
- 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided
- 2 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
Instructions
- Preheat. Heat your oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish with cooking spray or butter.
- Mix the sauce. In a bowl, whisk together the cream of mushroom soup, sour cream, milk, garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper until smooth.
- Layer the potatoes. Alternate layers of sliced russet and sweet potato in the prepared baking dish, slightly overlapping the slices. Aim for 2—3 layers total.
- Dump and top. Pour the soup mixture evenly over the potatoes, nudging it into the gaps with a spoon. Scatter the butter pieces over the top, then sprinkle with 3/4 of the cheddar cheese.
- Bake covered. Cover the dish tightly with foil and bake for 35 minutes, until the potatoes are fork-tender.
- Finish uncovered. Remove the foil, sprinkle on the remaining cheddar, and bake an additional 15 minutes until the top is golden and bubbling.
- Rest and serve. Let the bake rest for 5 minutes before serving. It cuts cleanly and reheats beautifully the next day.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 290 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 510mg