Today I was craving a roast. Roasted potatoes, that is. Someday I’ll make a full English roast for friends and family here in England, but despite a delicious example made by my dear friend I think I need a few more examples before I endeavor to climb that Mt. Everest.
The English will tell you that roasted potatoes need serious fat to be done properly. Like lard fat. I know many a person with a jar of duck lard or some sort for special occasions. No no, I tell you. No no.
Give your potatoes a scrub, then chop them into bite-sized pieces (which for me is usually just quartering them) and pop them in a roasting pan lined with foil. While roasted potatoes can serve many many people, I find 2 medium sized King Edward potatoes (or 1 large and 1 smaller russet potato) is suitable for a single serving.
Put about 2-3 tablespoons or so of olive oil in the roasting pan. Season with sea salt and black pepper, and any other seasoning you like. I love herb de provence, so that always gets a healthy toss in the mix.
Toss to coat
***HERE is the difference. Most will tell you to bake at a high temperature, then turn on the broiler (grill for the uk kids) at the last minute. I reverse it. Broil them first. Get a good crisp on them, then turn it down and let them cook through while you cook everything else. Let them get browned to your liking (for me that’s about 10 minutes or so) then wack the oven down to 150 degrees celsius.
I had my potatoes with two leftover sausages and a slice onion and the last bell pepper in my crisper (hence the penny pinch). Slice the onion and the bell pepper while the sausage browns in the pan with some oil (don’t let it burn!). Then, after about 5 minutes or so, put in the onion and pepper and turn down the heat a bit.
(at this point, check on your potatoes. If they seem done to you, turn off the oven and keep the door closed. That will keep them hot until the rest of the meal catches up)
Saute the onion and peppers. I’ll be honest, I’m total shite at figuring out when sausages are done. It’s this magic thing that English people have, being able to just tell. I have to slice into them and all sorts of nonsense. Ultimately, if the juices run clear, they’re done.
Plate, and there you go. A slightly crap not very clear recipe of how a thrown together dinner really goes.