Herbed Steak Fries -- The Comfort You Order When Home Feels Far Away

Tour stop two: Los Angeles. Then three: San Francisco. Two readings in four days. The pace is intense — travel, read, sign, sleep, repeat. Ryan has the kids. He's managing. 'Managing' in Ryan terms: the kids are alive, fed, and only slightly feral. Caleb ate cereal for dinner one night. Hazel wore her pajamas to preschool. Ryan texted a photo of the kitchen: dishes in the sink, flour on the counter (he attempted pancakes and they 'didn't go well'), and a note from Caleb that said 'WE MISS MAMA.' I miss them too. The tour is amazing and exhausting and lonely — the loneliness of hotel rooms and bookstores and talking to strangers about your life while your actual life is two hundred miles south, eating cereal. LA: 150 people. A woman who drove from San Diego to see me (I could have just had coffee with her at home). A man — a veteran, Army — who said the pot roast chapter made him call his wife and thank her for cooking through his deployment. Another phone call. Another mother reached. San Francisco: 180 people. A Vietnamese grandmother who came specifically for the Ba Linh chapter. She didn't speak much English. Her granddaughter translated: 'She says you understood. You understood what the kitchen means.' I understood. Because Ba Linh taught me. Because standing in her Houston kitchen and hearing 'this is home' through pho — that's the chapter that writes itself. Made nothing on tour. Ate hotel food. Room service pasta. The food of absence. Called Mom from the hotel. 'I'm tired, Mom.' 'I know, baby. Come home soon.' 'Norfolk is next month.' 'I know. The fried chicken is ready.' The fried chicken is always ready. Donna Abernathy: prepared since 1975.

The room service pasta was fine — it always is — but what I kept thinking about, somewhere between San Francisco and the memory of Ryan’s failed pancakes, was something crispy and herbed and unapologetically satisfying. Not fancy. Just good. These herbed steak fries are exactly that: the kind of thing you’d order at midnight from a hotel menu and feel briefly, beautifully human again. I made them the first weekend I was back, standing in my own kitchen while Caleb and Hazel sat on the counter stealing bites — the food of return, not absence.

Herbed Steak Fries

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 4 large russet potatoes, scrubbed and cut into thick wedges
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1 teaspoon onion powder
• 1 teaspoon dried rosemary, roughly chopped
• 1 teaspoon dried thyme
• 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped (for serving)

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 425°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper or lightly grease it with cooking spray.
2. Cut and dry the potatoes. Slice each russet potato lengthwise into 6–8 thick wedges. Pat the wedges thoroughly dry with paper towels — this is the key to getting them crispy rather than steamed.
3. Season. In a large bowl, toss the potato wedges with olive oil, garlic powder, onion powder, rosemary, thyme, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper until every wedge is evenly coated.
4. Arrange on the baking sheet. Spread the wedges in a single layer, cut side down, with space between each one. Do not crowd the pan; use two baking sheets if needed.
5. Roast. Bake for 20 minutes, then flip the wedges and return to the oven for another 18–20 minutes, until deep golden brown and crisp on the edges.
6. Finish and serve. Remove from the oven, taste for salt, and scatter fresh parsley over the top. Serve immediately while hot and crispy.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 280 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 43g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 310mg