Home fries.

I initially was going to call this recipe “Mom-Mom’s hash browns” because, am I mistaken, there is not such a heated home fries vs. hash browns debate where I grew up (southern New Jersey, for those who are newer here.  Philadelphia area, not like the reality TV show).  In fact, my gut reaction, and what I say when I’m making these for breakfast, or dinner like I did tonight, is to say hash browns.  According to Google, that’s not right, and really the word hash in and of itself implies a more soft and mushy food than the above, so, wash my mouth out with soap cause I’ve been saying it wrong all this time.

Or maybe I say them interchangeably?  I think I’m giving myself too much credit.

When we go out for breakfast, a bacon, egg, and cheese on an English muffin (not bagel, not toast!) and a side of hash browns, dammit, home fries is my go-to.  It feels responsible but also unbelievably satisfying.  One out of every ten times I do something crazy (it’s so crazy–read on and see!) and order  pancakes.  Pancakes!  I usually want to go to sleep after that, and for a very, very long time, so in order to not sleep half my weekend away, I usually stick to my eggs.  But, when it comes to the home fries, I feel a little bit like a food snob when I question the waitress.  I do it with that “I’m so sorry I’m doing this to you” look on my face the whole time, which makes it a little bit better?  Are the home fries here crispy?  Do they fry onions with them?  I nervously glance around at the other tables of patrons, hoping someone ordered the home fries, because one look of theirs will usually answer my questions.  I usually go ahead and order; two questions and/or shifty eyes without ultimately ordering food-in-question is just more than I can bear.  But, I am disappointed at least 80% of the time.  What is it about restaurant home fries?  Why can they not get them right?  Why do they so often not use onions?  Why do they think a softish potato cube equals a home fry?  Why, pray tell, are my home fries red?  (Paprika has no business being on home fries.)

I’m sorry if you’re a restaurant owner who gets home fries right.  Or a restaurant owner who thinks you get home fries right.

Alright, I’m off my home-fry-high-horse now.  Promise.

Point is, I make them well, and I make them just like my Mom-Mom did.  She had food down pat. From your basic mashed potato to your peach cobbler, her food was delicious and full of fat and there was never a table you were more delighted to be at than hers.  She never actually provided the recipe for me, nor did I ever painstakingly watch her make them, but they taste the same so I think years of eating her home fries had spoiled my taste buds to the point that I had to figure it out.  And while I don’t really think home fries are a recipe one needs to put on their blog, I also do.  Because, there’s a lot of not-so-good home fries out there.

So here’s how I do it, in paragraph form because that just feels more natural when talking about something as cozy and buttery as home fries.  I use russet or yukon gold and, do you know, I can’t really decide which I like better.  If you’re forcing me to pick, I think the yukon gold (or yellow potatoes?  Same thing?).  They have a naturally more buttery flavor to them, but there are times where my eyes roll back in my head because they’re so good and those will also be times when I’ve used russet, so it’s really just whatever I have.  Don’t make me pick.  Now let’s say we’re making them for four people.  That’s roughly five to six potatoes, give or take, depending on size.  I start by melting at least a half a stick of butter.  Don’t scoff at that (because, read on, I’ll add more still.).  I dice up a yellow onion, and one to two of them depending on size or how onion-chocked you like your home fries.  Sauté the onions in your melted butter, medium-low heat.  You don’t want them to burn but you do want them really golden and a few slightly crispy-almost-burnt.  Sauté them for a few minutes and then add your potatoes.  The thickness of the potatoes will really determine your cook time.  I like to go on the thin side so that there’s more surface area per potato for the crispiness.  That sounded awful scientific, didn’t it?  They should all be roughly the same.  So now, you’ve added your potatoes and you’ll be tempted to stir too often, but the key to getting the crispy, brown sides is to let them sit.  Don’t stare at them, but don’t go too far away from the kitchen either.  Give a stir, then let them sit for a few minutes.  I vary the heat between medium low and medium here.  If anything’s going to burn, it’ll be your onions.  Careful not to let that happen.  Occasionally, I’ll eye the potatoes and think they look too dry–all the butter’s been absorbed by them–and add another tablespoon or two of butter.  If they’re not looking crispy enough, up your heat a little bit.  From start to finish, my home fries take me at least a half hour, the majority of this time is them just sitting and cooking and doing their thing with your occasional stir, nudging them towards their eventual crispiness.

Once they’re cooked, half hour to forty five minutes, add a few cranks of good salt.  Be liberal here.  And then, our much preferred method of eating, is a big pile of hot home fries on your plate, a generous shredding of cheddar atop it, and then two fried eggs on top of that.  Steve remembers the Clocktower Inn in Vail (which, I don’t believe exists anymore?) serving that very breakfast in individual cast iron pans.  He’d devour it before a long day of skiing.  We’ll eat it for breakfast or dinner and it’s always delicious, with or without the skiing.