Cheesy Scalloped Potatoes: A Love Story in Layers

Can we talk recipe keepers for a second?

You know what I mean—the sacred recipes. The ones scribbled on old, sauce-stained index cards in your mom’s or grandma’s handwriting that feel like actual historical documents. The ones that predate Pinterest, food blogs, and those bizarre Instagram chefs who insist on adding truffle oil to literally everything.

This, my friend, is one of those recipes.

No Pinterest. No TikTok hacks. No five variations using cauliflower or Greek yogurt or the tears of unicorns.

Just my mom.
Just holidays.
Just cheesy, carb-loaded, creamy perfection baked until golden brown and bubbling like it’s ready for its close-up in a food commercial.

Let me paint you a picture: Every major holiday of my childhood featured these Cheesy Scalloped Potatoes. Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, Fourth of July (because freedom = cheese), Flag Day—okay, maybe not Flag Day. But you get the point. They were always there. Like a warm, comforting friend who never lets you down.

And if we were going to someone else’s house? Same story.

"Rita, you're bringing your potatoes…RIGHT?"

They didn’t ask what she wanted to bring. They didn’t ask if she was free. They just knew she was responsible for those potatoes. And my mom, being the humble legend that she is, always showed up—casserole dish in tow, buttery smile on her face, and zero clue just how obsessed people were.

Now here’s the problem: I’m a grown-up now (allegedly). And if I want those potatoes, I have two options:

1. Book a flight to Kansas City and beg my mom to make them (which sounds dramatic but honestly not the worst idea).

2. Make them myself like a responsible adult who owns a whisk and has accepted the chaos of adulthood.

So, I chose Option 2. I put on my apron, found the holy grail recipe card (yes, in her actual handwriting—cue the sentimental tears), and got to work.

And now? I’m sharing it with you. Because I love you. And because carbs are better when shared.

What Makes These Potatoes So Special?

Is it the layers of thinly sliced potatoes, like buttery edible Jenga?
Is it the cheese sauce that could make a grown man weep?
Is it the fact that it turns ordinary humans into potato evangelists?

Yes.
To all of it.

These are not health food.
These are not low-carb, keto-friendly, or “lightened up” in any way, shape, or form.
These are full-fat, unapologetically rich, and 100% worth every bite.

They are the kind of dish that makes people hover in the kitchen “just to check on things,” which is code for “sneak a forkful and then pretend it didn’t happen.”

Ingredients (aka The Magic)

• 5-6 medium russet potatoes, peeled and sliced thin (like 1/8-inch thin—channel your inner mandoline or just go slowly with a knife while muttering “worth it”)

• 4 tablespoons butter

• 1 Cup Chopped Onion and 1/2 cup chopped celery

• 4 tablespoons all-purpose flour

• 2 cups whole milk

• 2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese (don’t skimp—get the good stuff)

• Salt and pepper to taste

• Diced Ham (optional, but if you've got it around, go for it!)

Directions (aka How to Become a Legend)

1. Preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter or spray a 9x13 baking dish. This is your canvas, Picasso.

2. Peel and slice those potatoes like your holiday reputation depends on it. I usually stack in a pretty fan after slicing so they look like I know what I’m doing. (I don’t.)

3. Make the cheese sauce:

   • Melt butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and celery and a pinch of salt and saute those puppies up until they're soft.  (could be 5 minutes, could be a day...)

   • Whisk in flour to make a roux (you’ll feel very French—own it).

   • Slowly (I mean really slowly) pour in the milk, whisking constantly so it doesn’t get lumpy and weird.

   • Once it thickens, stir in the cheese until melted and smooth. Add  salt, and pepper. Try not to eat it with a spoon. Fail. Repeat.

4. Layer it up:

   • Arrange your potatoes in your dish.  You can go one layer like I did or go flat in your casserole if you're in a hurry.  I will not judge!

   • Pour cheese sauce over them.  Add the ham if you'r using it.

   • Sprinkle a little paprika on top so it looks like you tried.

5. Bake uncovered for about 60-75 minutes, until the top is golden and the potatoes are tender and cheesy and everything is right in the world.

6. Let them sit for a few minutes before serving. Not just to avoid burning the roof of your mouth (though, yeah), but because the sauce thickens up and they slice better. If you can wait 10 minutes, you’re stronger than I am.

Pro Tips From Rita (a.k.a. Potato Queen)

• Don’t use pre-shredded cheese unless you want sadness. It has weird coatings that mess with melting.

• If your sauce gets too thick, just add a splash more milk. If it gets too thin, keep whisking. It’ll thicken up with time and love (just like my middle school self-esteem).

• These taste even better the next day. If you have leftovers. Which you won’t. But just in case.

Final Thoughts from Your Favorite Potato Enthusiast

You have to make these. For real. This isn’t one of those “you could try this” or “it’s a fun twist on a classic” things.

No.
These are the classic.
The One Potato to Rule Them All.

Whether you’re making them for a holiday, a potluck, or just a Tuesday night where only molten cheese can fix your mood, these potatoes will show up for you like they’ve been showing up for my family for decades.

And now? The legacy grows.
So grab your apron, crank the oven, and get ready to become the person everyone texts with:

“You're bringing your potatoes…RIGHT?”

Yes.
Yes, you are.

P.S. Love you, Mom. Even if you never measure anything and somehow they still turn out perfect every single time. Witchcraft.