Spanish Beef Hash

March. The month of thaw. The month where Iowa decides, finally, reluctantly, to release its grip on winter and let the temperature rise above freezing for more than one day at a time. The snow is receding — patchy now, dirty at the edges, retreating from the lawns and the driveways and the garden beds where Jack's garlic is waiting underground, dormant but alive, the way everything in Iowa is dormant but alive in winter, waiting for the signal, waiting for the warmth, waiting to grow.

Jack's seedlings need transplanting — the tomato starts have outgrown their peat pots and need bigger containers before they can go outside. We spent Saturday afternoon at the kitchen table with soil mix and four-inch pots, transferring seedlings with the delicacy of a surgical team. The Brandywines are tall and leggy. The Sun Golds are compact and eager. The Mortgage Lifter is robust — thick-stemmed, dark-leaved, the tomato equivalent of a linebacker. Jack handles each plant like it's a newborn, which, in his agricultural worldview, it is. He talks to them. Quietly, when he thinks I'm not listening. He says things like, "You're going to do great," and "The soil outside is ready for you." He's nine in September and he's coaching tomatoes. I don't intervene. You don't interrupt a farmer talking to his plants. It's between them.

I heard news on the radio about a virus — something in China, spreading, the kind of news that registers but doesn't land, the way a weather report for a different state registers but doesn't change your plans. It's far away. It's not here. We have seedlings to transplant and a garden to plan and a March that's turning toward spring, and the virus is somewhere else, and somewhere else is not my kitchen.

I made corned beef and cabbage — the March dish, the one I make every year whether we're Irish or not (we're not — we're German and English and Iowa, which is its own ethnicity). The corned beef simmered for three hours with potatoes and carrots and cabbage wedges, and the house smelled like a pub and tasted like a holiday and Kevin ate two plates and said, "We should be Irish." I said, "We're from Iowa." He said, "Close enough." It's not close at all but the corned beef doesn't care about ancestry and neither do we.

The corned beef never fully disappears in this house — there’s always enough left for the next morning, and that’s not an accident. The day after we make our annual March pot, I pull out the cast iron and make Spanish Beef Hash: everything diced and crisped in one pan, the potatoes getting golden at the edges, the paprika turning the whole thing the color of a warm kitchen on a cold Iowa morning. It’s the dish that turns a holiday into a whole weekend, and Kevin eats it just as fast as the original.

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

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 lb cooked beef (corned beef or roast beef), cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 1/2 lbs Yukon Gold potatoes, scrubbed and diced into 1/2-inch cubes
1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 red bell pepper, seeded and diced
1 green bell pepper, seeded and diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Instructions

Par-cook the potatoes. Place diced potatoes in a microwave-safe bowl with 2 tablespoons of water. Cover and microwave on high for 4–5 minutes until just barely tender but not fully cooked. Drain and set aside.
Start the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large cast-iron or heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onion and both bell peppers. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 5–6 minutes until softened and lightly browned at the edges.
Add garlic and spices. Stir in the minced garlic, smoked paprika, cumin, red pepper flakes (if using), salt, and black pepper. Cook for 1 minute until fragrant.
Crisp the potatoes. Add the par-cooked potatoes to the skillet in a single layer. Press down gently with a spatula and let cook undisturbed for 4–5 minutes until a golden crust forms on the bottom. Flip in sections and crisp the other side for another 3–4 minutes.
Add the beef. Stir in the cubed beef and Worcestershire sauce. Fold everything together and cook for 4–5 minutes, letting the beef caramelize slightly at the edges. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
Finish and serve. Remove from heat and scatter fresh parsley over the top. Serve directly from the skillet. Top with a fried egg if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Spanish Beef Hash — The Dish That Gets Born the Morning After