Roasted Red Potatoes

Spring 2039. I went to Las Cruces for ten days. Not a long weekend — ten full days, which is something I haven't done since I was in college. Lisa came for the first five days and then went back for work and I stayed. It was the first time in my adult life I stayed somewhere other than Denver for more than a week without a coaching obligation attached to it, and the strangeness of that took a few days to settle.

Papá and I cooked every day. We worked through things systematically — not by planning but by going to the farmers market in the morning and buying what looked best and then figuring out what to do with it. That's how Mamá and Papá have always cooked and it's a method that requires a level of comfort with improvisation that I have professionally but tend to resist in the kitchen when I'm doing it alone. With Papá, I relax into it. He improvises and I follow and then we taste and adjust and the thing becomes what it is.

One evening we made chile rellenos together from scratch — Papá's technique, which involves a batter so light it barely exists, and a frying technique that I have never successfully replicated at home because it requires a feel for the oil temperature that you develop over decades. He watched me make a test one and said, kindly but clearly: too cool. I adjusted. He said: better. By the fifth one I was getting it. He said: see — you just need to be here more. I said: I know, Papá. I'm here now. He said: yes, you are.

Mamá is eighty-one. She moves more slowly than she used to but she's sharp and direct and opinions come out of her like water from a spring — clear and fast. She told me on my third day that I looked good in retirement. That I looked like myself, which she said was different from how I'd looked when I was coaching. I asked how I'd looked when I was coaching. She said: like someone solving a problem. Not unhappy, but not here. I said: and now? She said: now you're here. I said: yes, Mamá. I'm here.

The chile rellenos were the centerpiece — Papá’s technique, his oil temperature, his decades of feel for when the batter was right. But every night we cooked together, there were other things on the table too, things that came together quietly while the main dish took its time. These roasted red potatoes were one of them: simple enough to improvise from whatever came home with us from the farmers market, steady enough to anchor a plate. I’ve made them back in Denver more times than I can count since that trip, because they remind me of the ease of being in that kitchen — of following someone else’s lead and tasting and adjusting until the thing becomes what it is.

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

Ingredients

2 lbs red potatoes, scrubbed and quartered
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon dried rosemary, lightly crushed
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped (for serving)

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 425°F (220°C). Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment or leave it bare — bare gives you a better crust.
Season the potatoes. In a large bowl, toss the quartered potatoes with olive oil, garlic powder, rosemary, onion powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper until every piece is evenly coated.
Arrange in a single layer. Spread the potatoes cut-side down on the baking sheet without crowding them. Space matters here — crowded potatoes steam instead of roast.
Roast until golden. Roast for 20 minutes, then flip each piece and roast for another 18–20 minutes until the cut sides are deep golden and the edges are crispy. Trust what you see and smell as much as the timer.
Taste and finish. Remove from the oven, taste for salt, and adjust. Transfer to a serving dish and scatter the fresh parsley over the top. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Roasted Red Potatoes — What We Made on the Nights Chile Rellenos Weren’t Enough