Didn’t plan on making anything.
The house was quiet in that lonely way. Not peaceful. Just… low.
I hadn’t slept well. Mae texted from college about a microwave mishap. I smiled. But it didn’t stick.
Opened the fridge.
Four potatoes looked up at me like, “We’ll do.”
And I remembered Her Highness had a scalloped version. Gruyère. Cream. Thyme if you’ve got it.
I did.
So I peeled.
And sliced.
And poured cream over everything like it might fix something.
What the Original Looked Like
Martha’s scalloped potatoes are an ode to control. Garlic rubbed just so in the dish. Butter like a secret. Potatoes sliced thin—1/8 inch exactly, because of course. Milk and cream brought to a boil with thyme and nutmeg and the kind of quiet confidence that says, “This will not break.”
Then layered. Then baked. Then broiled until golden in just the right way.
It’s precise. Even romantic.
Like love with rules.
What I Did Differently
I didn’t slice evenly.
Used a bread knife because the sharp one was in the sink.
I had thyme. Barely. Picked the leaves with my fingers while the cream simmered.
Skipped the nutmeg. Forgot, really. Remembered when it was too late and didn’t care.
Didn’t measure the cheese. I shredded until it felt right.
It was more than 6 ounces. I know that much.
The Way It Happened in My Kitchen
Started with rubbing the dish with garlic like Martha said. That part I liked. Smelled like Dad’s hands after he used to smash cloves and rinse with lemon. I didn’t expect that memory. It stayed.
The cream bubbled over once. I wiped the stove with the towel that’s already stained from last Thanksgiving. Mae dropped pie on it. Still never washed out.
Layered the potatoes in that old green Pyrex from college. One-third, then cheese, then more. It felt like therapy in thirds.
Covered it. Baked it. Waited.
The broiler scared me—always does—but I let it go a few extra minutes until the top sang brown and blistered.
Let it sit.
Then sat with it.
A Few Things I Learned
- Rubbing the dish with garlic makes it taste like someone cared.
- Gruyère doesn’t need permission to be decadent. It just is.
- Letting it sit before serving matters. So does sitting with yourself while it cools.
- Beige food heals more than it should.
What I Did With the Extras
Ate it cold the next morning with a spoon.
Didn’t heat it. Didn’t need to.
It was firmer. Quieter. Almost better.
Mae asked if I could mail her some.
I didn’t. But I sent her the recipe. She said, “Looks cozy.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Would I Make It Again?
Yes. On tired days. On cold days.
On days I miss people who don’t call anymore.
That’s As Much As I Remember
The cream thickened in the cracks.
The cheese browned just enough to feel like an accomplishment.
And I felt full for the first time in a week.
FAQs
Yeah—And Honestly, It’S Even Better The Next Day. Just Reheat It Low And Slow So The Cream Doesn’T Get Weird.
Nope. I Mean, It’S Lovely, But If All You’Ve Got Is Cheddar Or Something Off-Brand And Vaguely Nutty, Go For It.
Technically. But It Gets Grainy. I’D Just Eat It Cold At Midnight Like I Did.
I Thought It Was Fussy Too. But It Helps The Cream Cling. Feels Worth It Once You Taste That First Bite.
I Forgot It And Survived. Adds Warmth, Sure, But It’S Not Make-Or-Break. Thyme Does The Heavy Lifting.
You Could… But Don’T. It’S Like Perfume For The Dish. Just Do It.
Anything Deep Enough To Hold The Layers And Thick Enough Not To Burn The Bottom. I Used My Old Pyrex. Worked Fine.
Check out More Recipes:
Martha Stewart Gruyere Scalloped Potatoes
Description
Rich, Soft, And Exactly What I Needed When I Couldn’T Name What I Needed.
Ingredients
Instructions
- Preheated the oven to 375°F. Rubbed a baking dish with the garlic—slowly. Buttered the whole inside like it was an act of kindness.
- Sliced the potatoes thin-ish. Added them to a pot with the cream, milk, thyme, salt, pepper. Let it boil, then lowered the heat. Simmered for a minute. Took a breath.
- Let the whole thing cool just enough to layer without fear. Layered potatoes, then cheese. Did it again. Did it again. Topped with more cheese, because… why wouldn’t I?
- Covered it with foil and parchment. Baked for 40 minutes. Removed the covers and broiled until golden and bubbling. Smelled like comfort by then.
- Let it sit 15 minutes. It held together. I didn’t. But that’s fine.