Roasted New Potatoes

The date. Let me tell you about the date.

I got to the taproom an hour early because I am incapable of being cool. I checked my reflection in the bathroom mirror four times. I rearranged the table I'd picked out three times. My coworker Steve watched all of this and said, "Dude, relax." I told Steve to mind his own business. Steve said, "You're sweating." I was sweating.

Megan showed up ten minutes late, which she later told me was deliberate. She was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt and her red hair was down and she looked like someone who had not spent an hour agonizing over a table. She looked at the taproom — the tanks, the bar, the tasting flights — and said, "So this is where the magic happens." I couldn't tell if she was being sincere or sarcastic. I still can't always tell. That's part of it.

I ordered her a flight. She tasted each one methodically, like she was grading papers. She liked the hefeweizen. She did not like the IPA. She said, "Why do guys always like the most bitter beer?" I said, "Character building." She laughed. She has a good laugh — it's sudden, like it catches her off guard.

We talked for three hours. She told me about teaching — the kids, the parents, the bureaucracy, the moments when a nine-year-old understands something for the first time and you can see it click. She loves it in a way that's not performative. She just loves it. I told her about brewing, about Babcia, about learning to cook from recipe cards. She asked me real questions, not polite ones. She asked why it matters. I told her food is memory. She was quiet for a second and then said, "That's the least dumb thing a guy has said to me on a date." From Megan, that's a love poem.

I brought pierogi. From home. In a Tupperware container. I know how that sounds. But I'd made a batch that morning — potato and cheese, Babcia's recipe — and I put them in the work fridge and when the conversation hit a lull I said, "Hold on," and went and got them and heated them up in the taproom kitchen. She looked at the plate and said, "You made these?" I said, "From scratch." She tried one. She closed her eyes. She said, "Okay, these are good." From Megan, that's a standing ovation.

She texted me when she got home: "Good nachos." That's our thing now. Nachos means she had a good time. I am in so much trouble.

The pierogi I brought that night were Babcia’s — potato and cheese, boiled then pan-fried in butter — and I’ve made them a hundred times. But if you’re not ready to commit to two hours of dough-folding for someone you’ve only met twice, these roasted new potatoes are the honest, unfussy cousin that carries the same spirit: simple ingredients, real flavor, no performance. Megan closed her eyes over a pierogi, and I think a good roasted potato has that same power — it doesn’t try to be anything other than what it is, and that’s exactly why it works.

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

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs new potatoes, halved (or quartered if large)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon dried rosemary, crushed
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped (for garnish)
Optional: 1 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted, for finishing

Instructions

Preheat. Heat your oven to 425°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper or leave it bare — either works.
Prep the potatoes. Wash and dry the new potatoes thoroughly. Halve them (or quarter any that are larger than a golf ball) so the cut sides can get direct contact with the pan — that’s where the crust comes from.
Season. In a large bowl, toss the potatoes with olive oil, garlic powder, onion powder, rosemary, salt, and pepper until every cut surface is coated.
Arrange cut-side down. Spread the potatoes in a single layer on the baking sheet with the cut side facing down. Do not crowd them — give each piece a little room or they’ll steam instead of roast.
Roast. Roast for 20—25 minutes, without stirring, until the bottoms are deeply golden and the skins are slightly wrinkled and crisp. Test with a fork — they should yield easily in the center.
Finish and serve. If using butter, toss the hot potatoes with the melted butter straight from the oven. Transfer to a serving dish and scatter chopped parsley over the top. Taste and adjust salt. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Roasted New Potatoes — The Side Dish That Started Everything