Mexican Roasted Potato Salad

The week after. The funeral was Saturday in Las Cruces at the church he attended for forty years. The priest who smiled when he came in at the front pew. His coaches from Las Cruces Prep came — three of them, old men, men who played for him and coached beside him. His neighbors, his hardware store friends, the people who had been in the same pews for decades. Diego flew in. Sofia flew in. The twins were quiet and present in the pew beside me. Lisa held my hand through the whole service.

I gave the eulogy. I had written it on the drive down and rewritten it in my parents' kitchen at midnight and set it aside at three AM and slept for three hours. I stood at the podium and looked at the room full of people who had known Hector Medina and I talked about who he was in the ways that counted. I talked about the football. I talked about the calabacitas. I talked about the way he held my face in his hands after we won the first championship. I talked about Ruben, because you cannot talk about Hector without talking about Ruben, because the loss of a son is in the father forever after. I talked about the kitchen, where I learned the most important things I know.

I didn't cry at the podium. I held it. In the car afterward, driving to the reception with Lisa, I let it go. She drove. I was in the passenger seat for the first time in years and I looked at the mountains and I cried for my father the way a man cries when he has been holding the weight of a thing for a long time and finally sets it down.

Made posole for the reception. The full ceremony version. His version, which is also now my version, which is now the version I'll teach the twins and which they'll carry forward. The chain continues. The posole was on the table. He would have had two bowls.

The posole was the centerpiece — it always had to be, because that’s what Hector made, and the table needed to honor that. But a reception table doesn’t run on one pot alone, and I needed something beside it that had the same colors and the same spirit: roasted, earthy, a little bright, unmistakably from the same place we all come from. This Mexican Roasted Potato Salad was on that table. It held its own. He would have approved.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 10

Ingredients

3 lbs baby red potatoes, halved
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 cup frozen corn, thawed
1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
1/2 red onion, finely diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 jalapeño, seeded and minced
1/4 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
Juice of 2 limes
2 tablespoons olive oil (for dressing)
1/2 teaspoon honey
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup crumbled cotija cheese

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat oven to 425°F. Line a large baking sheet with foil or parchment. Halve the potatoes and pat them dry.
Season the potatoes. Toss potatoes with 3 tablespoons olive oil, chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, garlic powder, salt, and pepper until evenly coated.
Roast. Spread potatoes in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet, cut side down. Roast for 30–35 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until golden and crisp at the edges. Let cool for 10 minutes.
Make the dressing. Whisk together lime juice, 2 tablespoons olive oil, and honey. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Combine. In a large bowl, combine the roasted potatoes, corn, black beans, red onion, bell pepper, jalapeño, and cilantro. Drizzle with the lime dressing and toss gently.
Finish and serve. Top with crumbled cotija cheese. Serve warm or at room temperature. This salad holds well on a reception table for several hours.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mexican Roasted Potato Salad — What I Brought to the Table Beside the Posole