Ultra Crispy Baked Potato Wedges

Last week of September. The trees on my route have committed to fall — the oaks going burgundy, the maples orange, the sweetgums doing their thing where every leaf is a different color and the tree looks like it's having an identity crisis but a beautiful one. I walk through this every day and I think: Two more years. Two more autumns on this route. The counting has started, and once you start counting the remaining, every one becomes precious.

Charlie called Thursday and finally told me about the someone. His name — I'm going to say this calmly — his name is David. He works at the hospital where Charlie works. He's a physical therapist. That's all she said. No last name, no details, just "David" and "physical therapist" and "I really like him, Daddy." Three data points, which for Charlie is a confession of the highest order, because Charlie parcels out personal information the way I parcel out my dry rub recipe: sparingly, reluctantly, and only to people she trusts absolutely.

I said, "Is he kind?" — the question I always ask, the only question that matters, the first thing I said about Angela and the first thing I'll say about anyone who comes near my children. She said, "Yes. He's very kind." I said, "Then I'm happy." She said, "You're not going to ask anything else?" I said, "Charlie, when you're ready to tell me more, I'll be ready to hear it." She was quiet for a second and then said, "I love you, Daddy." I said, "I love you too, baby girl."

After the call, I stood in the kitchen and Rosetta looked at me and said, "She told you." I said, "How did you know?" She said, "Earl, you're crying into the refrigerator." I was. I was standing at the open refrigerator, tears rolling down my face, because my youngest daughter has found someone kind, and kindness is all I've ever wanted for her, and the wanting has been a weight I've carried for twenty-five years, and the weight just got lighter.

Saturday I made fried catfish — Mama's recipe, the full-gospel version, cornmeal and cayenne and cast iron, because some celebrations require the food of your origins, the food that says "this is who we are and where we come from," and fried catfish from a Memphis kitchen is the food of my origins, the food of Pearlie Mae's hands, the food that means home.

Mama’s catfish doesn’t come alone — it never did, not in Pearlie Mae’s kitchen, and not in mine. While the cast iron was heating and the cornmeal was ready, I cut the potatoes the way I always do: thick wedges, enough surface area to go properly golden, seasoned with the same cayenne that goes into the fish. These ultra crispy baked potato wedges have been on the table beside that catfish for thirty years, and when a moment is worth marking — when your youngest says “I love you, Daddy” and you’re still standing at the open refrigerator — you don’t change the menu.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 large russet potatoes, scrubbed and dried
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1 tablespoon cornstarch

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Set your oven to 425°F and place a large rimmed baking sheet inside to preheat while you prepare the potatoes — starting them on a hot pan is the key to a crispy bottom.
Cut the wedges. Slice each potato in half lengthwise, then cut each half into 3 or 4 even wedges depending on the size of the potato. Aim for roughly equal thickness so they cook evenly.
Soak and dry. Place the wedges in a large bowl of cold water and soak for 10 minutes to draw out excess starch. Drain, then spread them on a clean kitchen towel and pat thoroughly dry — moisture is the enemy of crispy.
Season. Return the dried wedges to the bowl. Drizzle with olive oil and toss to coat. Sprinkle over the cornstarch, salt, pepper, garlic powder, smoked paprika, cayenne, and onion powder. Toss again until every wedge is evenly coated.
Arrange and roast. Carefully remove the hot baking sheet from the oven. Arrange the wedges skin-side down in a single layer, giving each one a little space. Roast for 25 minutes without disturbing them.
Flip and finish. Flip each wedge onto a cut side and return to the oven for 15 to 20 more minutes, until deep golden and crispy at the edges. No need to flip again — just let the oven do its work.
Serve immediately. Wedges lose their crunch fast, so bring them straight from the oven to the table. They belong beside something fried, something worth celebrating, or both.

Nutrition (per serving)

Ultra Crispy Baked Potato Wedges — The Side Dish That Belongs Beside Mama’s Catfish