Succulent Steak and Hasselback Potatoes

Alejandro is out of the hospital but fragile. He is home in Anapra. Beatriz has moved in to care for him — not permanently, she says, but for now, the way everything in Anapra is for now, because permanence is a luxury and for now is all anyone can afford. She cooks for him. She makes sure he takes his medication. She hides the tequila, though I suspect he knows where she hides it and I suspect he is too tired to look.

I went back to the bakery on Monday. The routine resumed. The ovens turned on. The conchas came out. The customers came in. The world continued. And I stood in the kitchen at 4 AM and thought about Alejandro lying in a bed in Anapra and Rosa lying in the ground in Anapra and the distance between those two beds is sixty-seven years of living and eighteen months of dying, and the distance is closing, and I can feel it closing the way you feel a door closing — the air shifts, the light changes, the room gets smaller.

Luis Jr. brought me coffee at the bakery. Unprompted. Just set it on the counter and went back to loading the van. This is becoming his way — the coffee, the gesture, the wordless offering of care. The Army will get a man who brings coffee without being asked. The Army doesn't deserve him. No one deserves a boy who brings coffee to his mother at 5 AM in a bakery that smells like his grandmother's recipes. But the Army will get him anyway, and I will drink the coffee and remember this, and the memory will be enough for the mornings when he is not here to bring it.

I made caldo de res this week — Rosa's Sunday soup, the one with the beef shanks and the corn on the cob and the cabbage and the cilantro and the lime. I made it on a Tuesday, which is not a Sunday, because the body needed it and the body doesn't care about the day of the week, the body cares about warmth and beef and the taste of the woman who taught you to make it. I stood at the stove and stirred and thought about Rosa standing at her stove and stirring, and the image was a mirror — two women, two kitchens, two stoves, the same recipe, the same motion, the same love poured into the same pot across thirty years and a border.

Sofia asked me if Abuelo is going to die. I said: "Everyone dies, mija." She said: "I know that. I mean soon." I said: "I don't know. Maybe." She nodded. She didn't cry. She went to the bakery kitchen and made conchas. She makes conchas when she doesn't know what else to do. She is me. She is Rosa. She is the third generation of women who bake their way through the unbearable.

The caldo carried me through the worst of it — the Tuesday soup, the stirring, the thinking about Rosa. But by the weekend, Alejandro was still fragile and I was still standing, and something in me needed to cook something that felt less like mourning and more like stubbornness. Beef again, because that is where my hands go when I need to feel capable. This steak — seared hard, finished with butter and garlic, served alongside potatoes that crisp at the edges like they mean it — is not Rosa’s recipe, but it is the same impulse: feed the people in front of you, feed them something that takes real heat to make, and let the cooking be the love you don’t have words for.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 boneless ribeye or sirloin steaks (about 8 oz each, 1 inch thick)
4 medium russet potatoes, scrubbed
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh rosemary, finely chopped
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for the steaks
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more for the steaks
1/2 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
3 tablespoons sour cream
2 tablespoons fresh chives or flat-leaf parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with foil and set aside.
Slice the potatoes. Place each potato between two wooden spoon handles or chopsticks (to prevent cutting all the way through) and make thin crosswise cuts every 1/8 inch along the length of each potato. The spoon handles will stop your knife before it hits the cutting board, keeping the potato intact at the base.
Season and roast the potatoes. Place the sliced potatoes on the prepared baking sheet. In a small bowl, mix 3 tablespoons of the melted butter with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, the garlic, and rosemary. Brush generously over the potatoes, working the mixture down into the cuts. Season with 1 teaspoon salt and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Roast for 40 minutes.
Add cheese and finish roasting. Remove the potatoes from the oven and sprinkle shredded cheddar over the tops and into the cuts. Return to the oven for another 8 to 10 minutes, until the cheese is melted and the edges are deeply golden and crispy. Remove and keep warm.
Season the steaks. While the potatoes finish, pat the steaks dry with paper towels — this is what gets you the sear. Season both sides generously with salt and pepper and let them rest at room temperature for at least 10 minutes.
Sear the steaks. Heat a cast iron or heavy skillet over high heat until smoking. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Lay the steaks in the pan and do not move them. Sear for 3 to 4 minutes per side for medium-rare (internal temperature of 130°F), or 4 to 5 minutes per side for medium (145°F).
Baste with butter. In the last 2 minutes of cooking, add the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter to the pan. As it foams, tilt the pan and spoon the butter continuously over the steaks. This is the step that makes them succulent — don’t skip it.
Rest before cutting. Transfer the steaks to a cutting board and let them rest, loosely tented with foil, for at least 5 minutes. The juices will redistribute. Cutting too soon is the only real mistake you can make here.
Plate and serve. Place each steak alongside a Hasselback potato. Add a dollop of sour cream to the potato and scatter chives or parsley over the whole plate. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Succulent Steak and Hasselback Potatoes — A Plate for the Living