Buffalo Wing Potatoes

Memorial Day weekend and the unofficial start of summer, which on Long Island means the first tentative trips to the beach and the seasonal migration of half of Manhattan to the Hamptons, a phenomenon I observe with the detached amusement of a woman who has lived here for thirty-seven years and still finds the summer people baffling. We are not beach people, the Feldmans. We are kitchen people. Our summers are measured not in beach days but in tomato yields.

I made potato salad for the holiday — my mother's recipe, which is not Sylvia's recipe, because Sylvia considered potato salad to be a gentile food and therefore beneath her attention, but my father's mother — Grandma Rosen, who came from Poland in 1929 — made a potato salad with hard-boiled eggs and dill and a dressing that was more mustard than mayonnaise, and this is the potato salad I make, and it is excellent, and Sylvia would have said "it's fine" in a tone that meant she would have made it differently, and she would have been wrong.

Marvin sat on the back porch in the afternoon sun and I brought him a plate and we ate together outside, which we haven't done in a while because getting Marvin outside requires a certain amount of orchestration — the right chair, the right shade, making sure he knows where he is, making sure he doesn't try to walk to the neighbor's house, which he did last month, not maliciously but simply because the boundaries of his world are becoming porous and he sometimes doesn't know where his house ends and the rest of the world begins. But today he sat and ate and the sun was warm and he said, "This is nice, Ruthie." And it was. It was nice.

Grandma Rosen’s recipe will always be the one I make when I need to feel connected to something — to her, to my father, to the version of summer that existed before I was old enough to be responsible for it. But when Marvin said “This is nice, Ruthie” and the sun was doing exactly what afternoon sun is supposed to do, I thought about how potatoes, in any form, are the food of sitting still and being present. These Buffalo Wing Potatoes are what I reach for when I want that same warmth with a little more edge to it — a little heat, a little tang, the kind of side dish that makes you pay attention to what’s on your plate instead of everything else.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 40 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 lbs small red potatoes, halved
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/3 cup Buffalo wing sauce
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
2 green onions, thinly sliced (for garnish)
Blue cheese or ranch dressing, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat oven to 425°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with foil and lightly coat with nonstick spray.
Season the potatoes. In a large bowl, toss the halved potatoes with olive oil, garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper until evenly coated.
Roast. Spread potatoes cut-side down in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Roast for 25–30 minutes, until golden and fork-tender, flipping once halfway through.
Toss with sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together the Buffalo wing sauce and melted butter. Remove potatoes from the oven and pour the sauce over them, tossing gently to coat.
Finish roasting. Return potatoes to the oven and roast an additional 8–10 minutes, until the sauce caramelizes slightly and the edges are crisp.
Garnish and serve. Transfer to a serving dish, scatter green onions over the top, and serve hot with blue cheese or ranch dressing on the side if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Buffalo Wing Potatoes — The Potatoes Marvin and I Ate in the Sun