Category Archives: Cooking

Nothing like a Deep Fried Donut

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A white plate with a blue rim holds several homemade, golden‑brown fried donuts with slightly irregular shapes, sitting on a kitchen countertop.

Time to Make the Donuts

A smiling Dunkin’ Donuts employee in a beige uniform and paper hat holds up a chocolate‑glazed donut while standing in front of trays filled with assorted donuts.

 

Do you remember Fred? The dedicated — and perpetually tired — baker who dragged himself out of bed every morning to “Make the Donuts”? That Dunkin’ ad ran for 15 or 16 years, and somehow the line stuck. Everyone still knows it.

Well… for me, I’ve probably avoided making the donuts for at least that long.

I tried baked donuts once. I even bought the special pans. They looked like donuts, but they didn’t taste like donuts. They were fine, but I never made them again.

Seven chocolate‑glazed donuts rest on a metal cooling rack set over aluminum foil, their glossy tops contrasting with the golden‑brown dough beneath.

Dunkin’ (now just Dunkin) makes decent donuts, but they aren’t the ones I remember from childhood. Colonial Donuts comes close — dangerously close — and that’s how this whole adventure started. I got hooked on their crunchy, cakey Old Fashioned donut. Now I’m craving them, but I’m carless, and I’m not about to spend an hour on Dial‑a‑Ride for a single donut. And I’m definitely not spending $20 on Uber or $10 on DoorDash.

So there was only one thing left to do: I’d have to make them myself.

Luckily, they freeze well. I can make a whole batch, keep a few out, and tuck the rest away for later.

I dug out my battered, slightly dented donut cutter. I have a new one, but the little center piece refuses to stay put, so the old one wins. I laid out all my basics. I haven’t made donuts in so long that I honestly can’t remember ever making them completely on my own. So I was being extra careful.

I don’t have my mom’s recipe, but I found one that’s close — close enough that the first bite tasted like home.

Sour Milk Donuts

Equipment A kitchen countertop with a large metal mixing bowl and wooden spoon, plus small bowls holding butter, eggs, and granulated sugar arranged for baking.

  • Donut cutter
  • Dutch oven (mine is cast iron, of course)
  • Slotted spoon
  • Candy thermometer
  • Paper towels (or grocery bags — traditional in Mom’s kitchen)

Ingredients

For the donuts

  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 2 large eggs, beaten
  • 3 ½ cups all‑purpose flour A stainless steel mixing bowl holds a rough, partially mixed ball of dough resting on a speckled kitchen countertop.
  • 2 teaspoons baking powder
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • ¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • ¾ cup sour milk or buttermilk
  • Vegetable oil or Crisco for frying

Instructions

  1. In a large mixing bowl, cream the butter and sugar. Blend in the beaten eggs.
  2. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
  3. Add the dry ingredients alternately with the sour milk.
  4. Place dough in a medium bowl, cover, and chill for at least 2 hours.Four ring‑shaped donuts fry in bubbling hot oil, their edges turning golden brown as they cook.
  5. Roll dough out on a floured surface to about ⅓ inch thick. Cut with a donut cutter, saving the centers.
  6. Heat 24–48 oz of oil or Crisco to 350° using a candy thermometer. Fry donuts 2–3 minutes per side, or until golden brown.
  7. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on paper bags or paper towels.
  8. Repeat until all dough is used.

Notes

My recipe called for a glaze, but I skipped it — I wanted plain donuts.

About halfway through mixing, I remembered exactly why I hadn’t made donuts in so long. The dough is stiff, and you really have to put some muscle into it to get all the flour incorporated.Four golden‑brown donuts float in bubbling hot oil as they finish frying in a deep pan.

This particular dough got sticky as it warmed up. I cut all the donuts and put them on a sheet pan, but next time I’ll cut and fry in batches so I can keep the dough chilled.

But for all my bungling, I didn’t burn the kitchen down or scald myself with hot oil. Aside from a few straggly-shaped donuts, they came out pretty good — and my cast iron Dutch oven got a beautiful seasoning. So I’m calling it a win all around.

I think cider donuts might be next.

Two bowls of freshly fried donuts sit on a kitchen counter—one filled with large ring‑shaped donuts, the other with smaller round and oval donut holes, all golden brown and crisp.

 

To Puff or Not to Puff (and no, I don’t mean cigarettes)

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A rustic wooden basket brimming with deep red apples, glowing like a perfect fall harvest.

Apple Season: Pancakes Two Ways

It’s apple season again. Sure, you can buy apples all year long, but there’s something special about making apple dishes when the orchards are full and the air turns crisp. Now that your cast iron pans are seasoned and ready to go, it felt like the perfect time to compare two apple pancake recipes.

If you’re like me and have a weight issue, pacing yourself is important. I used to eat one of these every morning for breakfast, but eventually I had to cut waaaay back. Too many calories… but oh my, they’re so good.

For years I was perfectly happy with my homemade imitation Bickford’s Big Apple Pancake. Then one day I saw a photo of an apple pancake that looked more like a big, puffy soufflé. I couldn’t find a recipe, so—with the help of my AI assistant—I created my own version. All I can say is: it’s good… but so was my original.

So let’s compare.

The Big Apple Pancake (Bickford’s Copycat)

Golden apple pancake baked in a black cast‑iron skillet, with caramelized apple slices arranged in a circular pattern on top.

This version is designed to puff in the oven and fall when removed. It settles into a custardy, apple‑soaked pancake. My first apple pancake was at Bickford’s, so this one is a nostalgic, comforting indulgence.

Ingredients

  • ½ cup all‑purpose flour
  • ½ cup milk
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 tablespoon margarine or butter, melted
  • 2 medium apples, peeled, cored, and sliced
  • ½ cup packed light brown sugar
  • 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Directions

  1. Combine flour, milk, and eggs.
  2. Pour melted margarine into a 9″ pie plate or cast iron skillet.
  3. Pour batter into the pan.
  4. Arrange apple slices in the batter.
  5. Combine brown sugar and cinnamon; sprinkle over the top.
  6. Bake at 425° for 25 minutes.

Note: Don’t rush the baking. Once fully cooked, the pancake will release and slide out easily. If you try to remove it too soon, you’ll get mush.

Dusty’s Apple Soufflé Pancake (Puffy Version)

Golden, deep‑dish apple pancake baked in a black cast‑iron skillet, with a caramelized top and crisp browned edges.

This is the dramatic one—the big rise, the soufflé look, the “wow” moment when you open the oven.

Ingredients

  • ½ cup all‑purpose flour
  • ½ cup whole milk
  • 3 eggs
  • 2 tablespoons melted butter
  • 2 medium apples, peeled, cored, and sliced
  • ½ cup packed light brown sugar
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon
  • Pinch of salt
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla

Directions

  1. Preheat oven to 425°. Place your 9″ cast iron skillet inside for a full 10 minutes.
  2. In a blender or with a hand mixer, whip together:
    • flour
    • milk
    • eggs
    • vanilla Blend 20–30 seconds until frothy.
  3. Prepare the apples.
  4. Mix brown sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl.
  5. Melt butter in the hot skillet.
  6. Pour batter into the skillet and swirl gently to coat evenly.
  7. Add the apples, arranging them around the edges—not the center—to allow the middle to puff dramatically.
  8. Sprinkle the cinnamon sugar.
  9. Bake 25–30 minutes. Do not peek.

When I tested this recipe, I didn’t keep the center clear of apples, so I lost some of the dramatic rise—but it still puffed beautifully between the slices.

This was the picture I saw that started me on this quest

Close‑up of a thick, golden‑brown apple pancake stacked on a plate, with a glossy surface from syrup or melted butter, photographed in a warm kitchen setting.

So what’s your verdict?

Do you puff… or not puff? I love both versions. Sweet, filling comfort food either way. You be the judge.

 

The Great Pasta Debate Lives On

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A plate of spaghetti topped with a thick tomato meat sauce, sprinkled with grated cheese and garnished with a fresh parsley sprig.

🍝 You’re Cooking Pasta ALL Wrong!

I guess the Great Spaghetti Debate is never going to rest.

Despite my very reasonable explanation back in April — To Break or Not to Break: The Great Spaghetti Debate — I opened my email this morning to a headline screaming at me like I’d committed a culinary crime:

“You’re Cooking Pasta Wrong.”

Well of course I had to read it. And inside? Another dramatic proclamation:

“arounddustyroads.com According to an Italian Chef.”

Alright, fine. What am I supposedly doing wrong now?

According to Chef Marcello of the Academia Barilla, the perfect bowl of pasta requires long noodles cooked in salted water — without breaking them — so the sauce can swirl and cling like it’s performing a romantic tango. After wading through all the author’s detours, it became clear he was talking about pasta dishes where the sauce is mixed into the noodles, not the kind you spoon on top once it’s on your plate. And after all that drama… they didn’t even include a recipe!

Okay. I can accept that. But I’ve moved on.

I am now 100% in the Short Noodle School of spaghetti cooking. I’ve even stocked up on the “pot‑sized” spaghetti you can buy at the grocery store. I don’t need a restaurant‑sized cauldron to make a single serving, and the pot‑sized noodles work beautifully. No muss, no fuss, no rogue noodle shards launching themselves across my kitchen like tiny edible javelins.Two boxes of pot‑sized spaghetti on a kitchen counter beside a container of uncooked pasta, with a cooking pot in the background.

So yes — the debate lives on. But this home cook has chosen her side.

And if Chef Marcello wants to challenge me, he can meet me in the pasta aisle — I’ll be the one holding the pot‑sized spaghetti with zero regrets.

 

A Little Cast Iron Review

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Three cast iron skillets of different sizes stacked inside one another on a striped kitchen towel resting on a wooden countertop.

Cast Iron Care: A Simple, Honest Guide

Good morning, my friends.

It’s time for a little cast‑iron cooking review. We’ve talked about cast‑iron cookware and how to care for it before, but there are always more questions. I’m no expert, but I am a die‑hard cast‑iron lover. I’d say 90% of my meals are made in a cast‑iron skillet, so I’ve learned that proper care is the difference between a kitchen workhorse and a rusty headache. And trust me — I’ve ruined more than one skillet over the years through neglect or pure stupidity. The good news? With patience and elbow grease, I’ve restored every single one.

So let’s talk about that humble hero of the kitchen: the cast‑iron skillet.

Three seasoned pork chops arranged in a black cast‑iron skillet, coated with a reddish-brown spice rub and ready to cook, with a sprig of rosemary nearby on a light surface.

Seasoned Pork chops ready for frying

Choosing Your Skillet

I have a full set — from a tiny 6‑inch up to a hefty 12‑inch — but my favorites are my two 9‑inch skillets. They’re smooth, glossy, nonstick, and easy to clean… but that finish didn’t happen overnight.

If you’ve just bought a shiny silver cast‑iron pan, or someone gifted you one, please don’t cook with it yet. And whatever you do, don’t scrub it to “keep the shine.” That shine is actually bare metal, and it needs seasoning before it becomes usable.

If you’re restoring an old, rusted, dinged‑up pan, you’ll also need to scrub it down to the base surface. It won’t look shiny, but it will smooth out, and the rust will come off.

Seasoning: The Step You Cannot Skip

A golden, puffed‑up apple pancake baked in a black cast‑iron skillet on a stovetop, with crisp edges and a risen center, surrounded by everyday kitchen items in the background.

High Rise (puff) apple Pancake

Seasoning is what creates that beautiful nonstick surface. It’s the step most people try to skip — but don’t. If you want a pan that lasts forever, this is where the magic happens.

Gather your tools: Water, soap, a scrub brush, steel wool, and a neutral cooking oil.

Yes, soap. Yes, water. and yes, even steel wool. You’re starting fresh.

A classic Bickford‑style apple pancake baked in a black cast‑iron skillet, with thin apple slices arranged in a circular pattern over a golden, custardy base and lightly dusted with cinnamon and sugar.

Bickford’s‑style baked apple pancake

Step 1: Clean the Skillet

If you just used it, let it cool, rinse with warm water, and wipe out any food bits.

If you’re restoring an old skillet, get ready to work. This is where the steel wool comes in. Scrub until the rust is gone and the surface feels even.

Step 2: Scrub Thoroughly

Golden cornbread baked in a black cast‑iron skillet, with a large wedge cut out to show its moist, crumbly interior, sitting on a stovetop.

Skillet Corn Bread

Use warm, soapy water and your scrub brush to remove stubborn bits. Use steel wool for anything that feels gritty or raised. You want the surface smooth — no sandpaper texture. Rinse well.

Step 3: Dry It Completely

Dry every inch of the skillet — the cooking surface, the sides, the handles, the bottom. Cast iron rusts fast, and moisture is the enemy. I use paper towels and make sure it’s bone‑dry.

Two golden, oven‑roasted chicken breasts resting in a black cast‑iron skillet, lightly browned with melted butter and herbs, set on a cloth-covered countertop.

Oven Roasted in cast iron pan chicken breast

Step 4: Oil the Pan

Add a drop or two of neutral oil. Wipe it around the entire pan and wipe off any excess. Too much oil will puddle, get sticky, and send you right back to Step 1.

I put the oil directly on the paper towel so I can control the amount.

A freshly baked meatloaf in a black cast‑iron skillet, topped with a glossy red ketchup glaze, resting on a wooden surface beside a striped kitchen towel.Step 5: Heat It — Two Different Ways

For Maintaining a Seasoned Skillet

Set your oven to 200°F. Place the lightly oiled skillet face down on the center rack with a drip pan underneath. Heat for 30–40 minutes. This sets the oil and removes any lingering moisture.

For Building a New Seasoning Layer

If your pan is brand new or freshly stripped, you need a strong base layer.

Set your oven to 450–500°F. Bake the pan for 1 hour, then let it cool in the oven. You may need to repeat this a few times until the surface turns dark, smooth, and slightly glossy. You’ll see the difference — it becomes slippery, slidey, and wonderfully nonstick.

Cooking With Cast IronA golden, freshly baked apple pie in a black cast‑iron skillet, with a flaky crust and steam vents on top, resting on a stovetop.

I make everything in my skillets — pies, apple pancakes, roast chicken breasts, meatloaf. I fry, bake, and sauté.

The one thing I don’t make is tomato sauce. Experts say you can, just don’t let it sit in the pan. The acid can damage the seasoning you worked so hard to build. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.

But for almost everything else? Cast iron is unbeatable. My skillet apple pie is legendary, and I wouldn’t dream of making an apple pancake in anything else.

A Final Thought

Remember, you’re seasoning your skillet every time you cook. Many pans come “pre‑seasoned,” meaning the manufacturer started the process for you. You can cook with them right away, but good maintenance will keep that seasoning building. But always check the packaging to be sure.

Be patient. Once you develop that seasoned base, treat it kindly and your skillet will be your friend forever. Maybe someday your grandkids will still be using it in their own kitchens.

And you know… I haven’t tried baking a cake in a cast‑iron skillet yet — but maybe I should. If pies and cornbread come out this good, a cake might be my next great adventure.

A freshly baked pepperoni pizza in a black cast‑iron skillet, with a golden crust and melted cheese, sitting on a light cloth beside a metal pizza cutter

 

Baked Alaska The Dessert, Not The State

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A large lakeside resort complex on Green Island in Lake George, New York, featuring white buildings with brown roofs, outdoor pools, landscaped grounds, and a long dock extending into the lake. The resort is surrounded by dense green forest and distant mountains under a clear sky.

Growing Up a Resort Town Kid

Here we go again, falling down the nostalgia rabbit hole.

A friend of mine posted some vacation photos on Instagram, and one of them was captioned Sagamore Hotel. I immediately dropped him a note: Is that the Sagamore on Lake George? The one on Green Island in Bolton Landing?

When he said yes, they were vacationing there, I of course responded, That’s my hometown! Not the Sagamore itself, of course, but Bolton Landing. To this day it still surprises me when anyone says they know where it is. Everyone has heard of Lake George, but not Bolton Landing.

But I’m getting off track.

The Sagamore was a big convention hotel when I was growing up. They catered to business conferences, and then came the “social season,” when the rich folks from New York City arrived to enjoy the lake. That’s how us locals thought of them. After all, we couldn’t afford to stay at The Sagamore — so obviously the people who did must be rich, right? It was just one of those unspoken small‑town truths.

A spacious hotel lobby with rustic décor, featuring a large round wooden table with decorative vases, comfortable seating areas with earth‑tone armchairs and sofas, stone tile flooring, framed photos on the wall, and a mounted deer head creating a cozy lodge‑style atmosphere.

 

I had a summer job working with the local photographer. Mostly it meant sitting in the lobby next to a display board of photos and taking orders, but occasionally he’d bring me along for banquet night as his assistant. My job was simple: keep the film cartridges loaded and ready to hand over fast. This was especially important when the banquet started.

 

 

All the diners would be seated, and then the kitchen doors swung open. White‑suited chefs and waiters paraded in with huge trays balanced on their shoulders. And coming up the rear was the pièce de résistance — the flaming Baked Alaska. It was always quite a spectacle.

A row of formally dressed servers carrying dome‑shaped Baked Alaska desserts with browned meringue and small blue flames on top, presenting them in a coordinated procession during a banquet. The warm lighting and flames create a dramatic, celebratory atmosphere.

I had no idea then what Baked Alaska actually was, except that it was a dessert that made a grand entrance in flames. Imagine my surprise when I eventually learned it was basically ice cream. What? Doesn’t it melt?

I’m older now and a bit more kitchen‑wise, but I still don’t know if I’m brave enough to try this retro dessert.

Are you?

A Little History Before We Get to the Recipe

Baked Alaska goes all the way back to the mid‑1800s, when chefs were experimenting with the science of heat insulation. The idea was almost comical: wrap ice cream in a thick layer of meringue, then blast it with high heat. The meringue acts like a fluffy winter coat, protecting the frozen center.

The dessert became famous at Delmonico’s Restaurant in New York City, where chef Charles Ranhofer originallyA close-up slice of Baked Alaska showing layers of sponge cake, chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream, all covered in a thick coating of toasted meringue with golden-brown peaks. called it Alaska, Florida — cold inside, hot outside. Over time the name evolved into Baked Alaska, and restaurants began presenting it with full theatrical flair: dimmed lights, flaming rum, and waiters parading it through the dining room like royalty.

That’s the version I saw at the Sagamore — the classic banquet‑hall Baked Alaska, flaming and dramatic and absolutely unforgettable.

But the classic version is… well… a production. So here’s a simplified, home‑friendly version that gives you the magic without the stress.

🍨 Simplified Baked Alaska (Home-Friendly Version)

Ingredients

  • 1 pound cake (store‑bought works perfectly)
  • 1 pint ice cream (any flavor you love)
  • 3 large egg whites
  • ½ cup sugar
  • ½ teaspoon vanilla extract
  • Pinch of salt

Instructions

  1. Prepare the base: Cut the pound cake into a circle or square slightly larger than your ice cream dome. Place it on a parchment‑lined baking sheet.
  2. Add the ice cream: Scoop the ice cream into a rounded mound on top of the cake. Freeze for at least 1 hour so it’s firm.
  3. Make the meringue: Beat egg whites and salt until foamy. Gradually add sugar and vanilla. Continue beating until stiff, glossy peaks form.
  4. Cover completely: Spread the meringue over the ice cream and cake, making sure it’s sealed with no gaps. This insulation is what keeps the ice cream from melting.
  5. Bake quickly: Bake at 500°F for 3–5 minutes, just until the meringue is golden. (Or use a kitchen torch for even easier browning.)
  6. Serve immediately: Slice and enjoy the magic — warm meringue outside, cold ice cream inside.

A dome-shaped Baked Alaska covered in toasted meringue with golden-brown peaks, sitting on a decorative plate with fresh strawberries blurred in the background.

Final Thoughts

So there you have it — a little Baked Alaska nostalgia. It’s one of those retro desserts that deserves a comeback. Meringue and ice cream? Yes, please.