Glorified Hash Browns

We drove back to Denver December twenty-eighth. Twelve hours. The kids slept most of the way. Lisa was quiet. I drove. The fields rolled past. The Sangre de Cristos turned blue in the late afternoon. We got home at five and unloaded the truck. The trophy went on the mantel — Lisa's decision, not mine, although I did not protest. The decorations from Christmas were still up but the energy of Christmas had transferred fully to Las Cruces and we were a household that was now in the post-Christmas phase, which is the strange interregnum between Christmas and New Year's when nothing happens and everyone is allowed to read a book.

Diego went to Hayley's family's for two days. Sofia took the twins to a movie. Lisa worked Sunday and Monday. I sat at home and read. I read a coaching memoir and then a thriller and then I started a long book about Spanish colonial New Mexico that I have been intending to read for ten years. The house was quiet. I made simple food. Beans on Sunday with rice. Eggs and chorizo Monday. Soup Tuesday. The simplicity was deliberate. I was rebalancing.

Wednesday New Year's Eve we did not party. We have not been party people since the kids came along, and the kids are not yet at the age where they want to do their own parties on New Year's. The five of us at home — Diego came back from Hayley's — watched a movie until ten and then watched the ball drop on TV at ten in Denver, which is midnight Eastern, and which is when our family New Year's officially begins because we are not staying up until midnight Mountain. The twins fell asleep on the couch. We carried them to bed. Diego went up. Sofia went up. Lisa and I sat in the den at midnight Mountain — actual midnight — and toasted with sparkling cider. Lisa said, "Twenty twenty-five." I said, "Twenty twenty-five." She said, "What do you want from this year." I said, "I want my dad to make it through the year. I want Diego to have a great senior spring and start college well. I want Sofia to take the next step in track. I want the twins to thrive in middle school. I want you to take care of yourself. I want to keep coaching well. I want to keep cooking. That is what I want." She said, "Anything else." I said, "I want to win another championship." She said, "Carlos." I said, "I am writing it down. It is what I want." She said, "Then go get it." We drank our cider. We went to bed.

Thursday and Friday were quiet. Saturday I went to the office and started looking at film of the kids who are coming up to varsity next fall. The cycle does not stop. Marcus is coming back as a senior — he is going to be a fifth-year QB, a leader, and the centerpiece of the offense. Anthony is coming back. Most of the secondary is coming back. We are losing Daquan and a few of the senior linemen. We have to rebuild the front. We have a junior named Calvin who is going to step into a starting role. We have a sophomore named Tyrese who is the most physically gifted defensive player I have seen at the program, and who has the year ahead of him to mature into the role. The bones of next year's team are in place. The work is figuring out the connective tissue.

Sunday I sat on the patio with coffee. Cold. Forty degrees. Bundled. The trophy still on the mantel inside. I thought about the year. Twenty twenty-four. The year of the championship. The year Diego had his senior season. The year Sofia ran a 2:11. The year the twins started middle school. The year my father-in-law fell. The year I almost saw Mamá and Papá three more times than I usually do, because the schedule loosened in December and we made the trip extra. The year I did not lose Papá, although I have been preparing myself for it for some time. The year I have been more present with my family than I have ever been, in a year when I have also been less present than I have ever been, because the championship year is the year of the absent presence — the dad who is at the field, who is not at the field, who is in the truck, who is on the bus, who is in bed at one in the morning thinking about a fade route.

Lisa came out to the patio with hot tea at ten. We sat. We did not talk. The world had quieted. The road bends. Feed your people. The game is won at the table. The game has been won. The game continues.

That Sunday after we got back, when Lisa was working and the house was finally quiet, I did not want anything complicated — I wanted the kind of food that asks nothing of you and gives everything back. I had made beans and rice, yes, but Monday morning I made hash browns, and I made them the way my mother always did: loaded, golden, fed with whatever was in the pan. Glorified hash browns. That is what she called them. When the season is over and the house is still and you need to come back to yourself, you start with a hot pan and a humble potato.

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

Ingredients

3 cups frozen shredded hash brown potatoes, thawed
1/4 cup butter, divided
1/2 cup diced yellow onion
1/2 cup diced green bell pepper
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese
2 tablespoons sour cream, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Sauté the vegetables. Melt 2 tablespoons of butter in a large cast-iron or nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add the diced onion and bell pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes.
Add the potatoes. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter to the skillet, then spread the thawed hash browns in an even layer over the vegetables. Press down gently with a spatula.
Season. Sprinkle the garlic powder, smoked paprika, salt, and black pepper evenly over the top of the potatoes.
Cook until golden. Let the hash browns cook undisturbed over medium heat for 10–12 minutes, until the bottom is deep golden brown. Flip in sections and press flat again, cooking another 8–10 minutes until the second side is crisp.
Add cheese. Scatter the shredded cheddar evenly over the top. Cover the skillet with a lid or foil for 2 minutes, until the cheese is fully melted.
Serve. Slide onto a plate or serve straight from the skillet. Top with a spoonful of sour cream if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Glorified Hash Browns — The Simple Food That Brought Me Back to Myself