Category Archives: Food

Rediscovering Pork Chops: A Cast Iron Success Story

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A Budget-Friendly Find at Hannaford

Hannaford had pork chops on sale this week. They also had sirloin steak on sale — and it looked beautiful — but even with the discount, one steak would have blown my entire food budget. Meanwhile, I could get eight center‑cut pork chops for seven dollars. As much as I love a good steak, the better value was pretty obvious.

My Complicated History with Pork Chops

Here’s the thing: I’m not usually a pork chop person. I like pork, I love ham, but I’ve only had one pork chop recipe in my life that I’d rate five stars — a slow‑cooker recipe. Growing up, we ate pork chops often, always pan‑fried with lots of salt and pepper, and they always seemed tough. So I’ve never gone out of my way to cook them.

Could Cast Iron Save the Day?

But then I remembered how beautifully the cast iron chicken breast recipe turned out. That got me wondering… could I use the same method for pork chops?

I had a simple three‑ingredient recipe saved — the kind you bake in a foil‑covered dish — and I thought I might be able to adapt it to cast iron. And once I started, I decided it needed a gravy too. Egg noodles were already on the menu, so why not go all in.

A Major Success

Let me tell you: this was a winner.

The whole meal came together fast. The noodles cooked while the chops finished in the oven, and the gravy took maybe five minutes — probably less, but I didn’t time it because I was too busy tasting it. The chops came out tender and moist, with that brown‑sugar‑Italian‑herb glaze that tastes like you fussed way more than you did.

And the gravy… oh my. So yummy.

Cleanup was a breeze too. The cast iron pan wiped right out — no sticking at all, even with the brown sugar.

I have a whole new outlook on pork chops now.

Cast Iron Italian‑Rub Pork Chops (with Easy Pan Gravy)

Boneless, center‑cut, about ¾‑inch thick

Bonless Center cut poek chops are the feature of this dish

Ingredients

Pork Chops

  • 4 boneless center‑cut pork chops (¾‑inch thick)
  • 1 packet dry Italian dressing mix
  • 2–3 tbsp brown sugar
  • 1–2 tbsp oil (for the pan)

Gravy

  • Drippings from the pan
  • 1 tbsp butter (optional)
  • 1–2 tbsp flour
  • ¾–1 cup chicken broth
  • Optional: splash of cream or milk
  • Pepper to taste

Instructions

1. Season the Pork

Mix the Italian dressing mix and brown sugar. Pat the pork chops dry and coat them on all sides.

2. Sear in Cast Iron

Heat a cast iron skillet over medium‑high and add a thin film of oil.
Sear the chops 1–1½ minutes per side until lightly browned.

3. Finish in the Oven

Transfer the skillet to a 400°F oven.
Bake 8–12 minutes, depending on thickness.
Remove when the internal temperature reaches 140–145°F and let rest 5 minutes.

Make the Gravy

The gravy hits all the right notes and gets to simmer quickly

simmering gravy

  1. Remove the chops to a plate.
  2. Keep the skillet over medium heat.
  3. Add 1 tbsp butter if the drippings look sticky or sparse.
  4. Sprinkle in 1–2 tbsp flour and whisk to form a roux.
  5. Slowly whisk in ¾–1 cup broth until smooth.
  6. Scrape up all the browned bits.
  7. Simmer 2–3 minutes until thickened.
  8. Adjust seasoning with pepper or a splash of cream.

Serving Notes

  • Spoon the gravy over egg noodles and let it run onto the pork chops.
  • Add parsley if you want a little color.
  • Leftovers reheat beautifully.

Let Me Know If You Try It

If you give this recipe a try, I’d love to hear how it turned out for you. Did the gravy win you over too? Leave a comment and let me know — I’m always curious how these cast iron experiments work in other kitchens.

 

New England vs the World- a Linguistic Nightmare

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New England Just Can’t Get With the Rest of the World

Or: Why Ordering a Simple Drink Can Feel Like a Pop Quiz

The Goulash That Started It All

A few days ago, I mentioned the great Massachusetts goulash mystery — how my simple mix of hamburger, tomatoes, and macaroni somehow shares a name with a paprika-heavy Hungarian stew, a baked casserole, and something called American Chop Suey. After fifty years in New England, you’d think I’d have the naming conventions down.

But no. Because if there’s one thing New England loves, it’s doing things its own way. And that includes what we call everyday foods and drinks.

Tonic, Soda, Pop… and Now “Soft Drink”

Ask for a soda in most of the country and you’ll get a Coke, a Pepsi, or whatever fizzy thing you’re after.

Ask for a tonic in New England and you might get a raised eyebrow — unless you’re talking to someone over 60, in which case they’ll hand you a Pepsi without blinking.

Meanwhile, pop is strictly a Midwest thing. If you say “pop” in Massachusetts, people will assume you’re talking about your father, not your beverage.

And then there’s soft drink, the polite, slightly formal cousin that sounds like it belongs in a 1950s diner or a doctor’s office. Technically it means any non‑alcoholic carbonated drink, but around here it’s more of a background character than a star.

So the full New England beverage glossary now looks like this:

  • Soda — the modern default
  • Tonic — the old-school Massachusetts classic
  • Soft drink — the formal, old-fashioned option
  • Pop — something your father is called, not something you drink

A newcomer doesn’t stand a chance.

The Frappe vs. Milkshake Debate (Now Featuring Smoothies)

This one still gets me.

In most of the country, a milkshake has ice cream. Thick, creamy, slurp-it-through-a-straw-if-you’re-lucky ice cream.

In New England?
Nope.

  • A milkshake is just flavored milk.
  • A frappe (pronounced frap, not frap-pay) is what the rest of the world calls a milkshake — because it actually has ice cream in it.
  • A smoothie is the healthy overachiever of the group — fruit, yogurt, ice, maybe spinach if you’re feeling virtuous. It sounds like it should be in the same category, but it absolutely is not.

So yes, you can order a chocolate milkshake here and get something the consistency of chocolate milk. And yes, it still surprises me.

The Grinder vs. Sub vs. Hoagie Situation

If you’re new to New England and someone offers you a grinder, don’t panic — it’s not a tool, it’s lunch.

  • Grinder — New England
  • Sub — Most of the U.S.
  • Hoagie — Philadelphia
  • Hero — New York

Same sandwich. Four names. Zero agreement.

Sneakers? Nope. We Wear “Tennis Shoes.”

Even if we haven’t touched a tennis court since the Nixon administration, New Englanders will still call all athletic shoes tennis shoes.

Running shoes, walking shoes, cross-trainers — doesn’t matter. They’re tennis shoes.

Rotaries, Not Roundabouts

Everywhere else: roundabout.
New England: rotary, and we drive through them like we’re trying to qualify for the Indy 500.

Tourists approach them with fear. Locals approach them with misplaced confidence. No one uses a blinker.

Wicked Good, Wicked Cold, Wicked Everything

“Wicked” is our universal intensifier.

  • Wicked cold
  • Wicked good
  • Wicked fast
  • Wicked expensive

It works for everything except actual wickedness.

Bubbler vs. Water Fountain

This one’s more Rhode Island and parts of Massachusetts, but it still counts.

A bubbler is a drinking fountain.
If you ask where the water fountain is, you’ll get directions.
If you ask where the bubbler is, you’ll get respect.

Jimmies vs. Sprinkles

Chocolate sprinkles?
In New England, they’re jimmies.

Rainbow sprinkles are still sprinkles, but chocolate ones get their own name. Why? No one knows. It just is.

Package Store vs. Liquor Store

If someone tells you they’re “running to the packie,” they’re not mailing a package — they’re buying wine.

A package store is a liquor store.
A packie run is a perfectly respectable Saturday errand.

Final Thoughts

New England is full of charm, contradictions, and linguistic curveballs. Whether it’s goulash that isn’t goulash, milkshakes that aren’t milkshakes, or rotaries that strike fear into the hearts of tourists, we like things the way we like them — even if the rest of the world disagrees.

Cast Iron Pan–Roasted Chicken Breasts

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Another Cast Iron Skillet Recipe

I can’t believe I have another cast iron skillet recipe to share—and this one is so simple it’s almost laughable. Honestly, I don’t know why I never thought of it before.

Chicken is a staple in my house. It’s usually cheaper than beef and always easy to find. I keep chicken breasts or tenders wrapped and frozen so I can thaw them for a quick meal. Roast chicken, schnitzel, chicken and broccoli… the list goes on.

Recently I read a cooking article claiming that roasting chicken breasts in a cast iron pan gives you juicier, more tender results than using a baking dish. I’ll admit, I raised an eyebrow. But I do love my cast iron pans, so of course I had to try it. And I bet you know where this is going—the expert was right. Cleanup was a breeze, too.

They offered all kinds of variations, but for my test run I kept it simple. No cheese, no breadcrumbs—just a naked chicken breast with a little salt and pepper.

Cast Iron Pan–Roasted Chicken Breasts

Ingredients

  • 2 bone‑in chicken breasts (I only had boneless and they worked perfectly)
  • Salt and pepper
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 1 tablespoon oil

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven to 425°.
  2. Preheat your cast iron pan on the stovetop for a few minutes (a 10‑inch pan fits two breasts).
  3. Generously salt and pepper the skin side of the chicken breasts.
  4. Add butter and oil to the pan at the same time.
  5. When the butter and oil are melted and hot, place the chicken in the pan, skin side down.
  6. Let it sear for a few minutes.
  7. Season the other side with salt and pepper.
  8. Flip the chicken and let the second side sear for a minute or two.
  9. Transfer the pan to the oven and roast for 20–30 minutes, or until the chicken reaches an internal temperature of 165° (use an instant‑read thermometer).
  10. Let the chicken rest for 5 minutes before slicing.

I served mine over boil‑in‑bag rice cooked in water flavored with chicken broth. Add the sliced chicken, a squeeze of lemon juice, and voilà—a meal to remember. The chicken was juicy and flavorful, the salt and pepper formed a beautiful crust, and my well‑seasoned cast iron pan wiped clean without a fuss.

This one is definitely joining my dinner rotation.

 

Old‑Fashioned Goulash (or Whatever You Call It)

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What Is This Dish, Anyway?

I’ve been making a simple mix of tomatoes, hamburger, and macaroni for years, and for the longest time I never knew what to call it. I watched my mother make it more times than I can count, and she always called it Goulash. So naturally, I did too.

Then I moved to Massachusetts — and suddenly people looked at me like I had three heads when I said “Goulash.”

The Massachusetts Goulash Confusion

Here in southeastern Massachusetts, I kept running into versions made with stew beef and mountains of paprika. Hearty, rich, and often described to me as a Hungarian dish. Hungarian goulash is a slow-cooked, rich broth-based dish

A dear friend of mine made yet another version. Hers was closer to mine but still not quite the same. She called it American Chop Suey, and it used tomato soup and tomato paste for thickness. Delicious — but not what I make.

My Version: Simple, Light, and Definitely Not Paprika‑Heavy

My own dish is SIMPLE. No cheese, no tomato paste, no baking. It ends up with a thinner sauce — almost soup‑like — but not quite a soup either. (Yes, I checked. There are actual “Hamburger Soup” recipes online, and nope, that’s not it.)

Then I stumbled across something called Old Fashioned Goulash, a Midwest classic. And finally — finally — I found something close to what I’ve been making all along.

So here’s a comparison. Maybe one of these versions will become a favorite in your kitchen too.

Old Fashioned Goulash (Midwest Style)

Ingredients

  • 1 pound elbow macaroni
  • 2 pounds ground beef
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
  • 2 (15 oz) cans tomato sauce
  • 2 (14.5 oz) cans petite diced tomatoes
  • 1 ½ tablespoons Italian seasoning
  • 2 teaspoons salt
  • ½ teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Directions

  1. Preheat oven to 350°.
  2. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Cook macaroni for 3 minutes, then drain.
  3. Heat a large skillet over high heat. Add ground beef and onions. Cook 6–7 minutes until browned; drain fat.
  4. Add garlic and cook 1 minute until fragrant.
  5. Stir in Worcestershire sauce, tomato sauce, and diced tomatoes.
  6. Add Italian seasoning, salt, and pepper. Taste and adjust.
  7. Mix in the cooked macaroni and cheddar cheese.
  8. If your skillet is oven‑safe, bake 20–25 minutes until bubbly. Otherwise, transfer to a casserole dish and bake.

My Simple Version of Old Fashioned Goulash

Ingredients

  • 1 small onion, chopped
  • 1 small green bell pepper, chopped
  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1 pound hamburger
  • 1 cup elbow macaroni
  • 1 (26 oz) can diced tomatoes
  • Salt and pepper to taste

Directions

  1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Cook macaroni according to package directions, using the shorter cook time.
  2. Heat a Dutch oven over medium heat. Add oil, onions, and green peppers.
  3. Add hamburger, breaking it up as it cooks. Season with salt and pepper. Cook 7–8 minutes until browned.
  4. Add diced tomatoes and stir well.
  5. Let the mixture simmer. When it’s hot, add the cooked macaroni and combine. Simmer about 5 minutes.
  6. Serve with garlic bread or Texas toast.

Final Thoughts

Without the cheese, you’ll get a very different dish — but that’s the fun of cooking. Every family has its own version, its own name, and its own memories tied to it.

I’d love to hear what you call this dish and how you make it.

 

The Five‑Second Rule and Other Delicious Lies We Tell Ourselves

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✨ The Myths, Legends, and Laughs of Kitchen Folklore

There are a few myths and legends that sneak into everyday food handling. One that comes to mind immediately is the Five‑Second Rule. Ever heard of it? I seem to run into it constantly. I’ve even heard it mentioned in TV programs like The Simpsons—and believe it or not, Julia Child herself once scooped up dropped food on camera. She never said the rule out loud, but that moment alone helped cement it in modern kitchen culture.

The Five‑Second Rule: Convenient, Comforting… and Completely Wrong

For anyone who’s never watched TV or has their head buried like an ostrich, the Five‑Second Rule is the belief that food dropped on the floor is safe to eat if you pick it up within five seconds.

Unfortunately, science has rained on that parade. Studies show bacteria can transfer to food almost instantly. How much depends on the food, the surface, and how dirty that surface is. The myth sticks around because it’s a handy excuse not to waste food—but it’s not exactly a food‑safety strategy.

Understanding the risks helps us make better choices and reminds us that hygiene matters more than wishful thinking.

The Jelly‑Side‑Down Curse

Another favorite saying is that toast always lands jelly‑side down. Don’t laugh—think about it. I always assumed the extra weight of the butter or jelly caused the flip… or maybe it’s just a breakfast version of Murphy’s Law.

But there’s actually physics behind it. Toast usually starts jelly‑side up on a plate. When it slips, it only has time to rotate about half a turn before hitting the floor—landing jelly‑side down. Not bad luck. Just gravity with a sense of humor.

The Pancake Theorem: The First One’s Always a Dud

There’s a whole plethora of kitchen sayings, but one of my favorites is the Pancake Theorem:
“The first one’s always a dud.”

As someone who struggled for years to make the perfect pancake, I can confirm this one from personal experience. I’m happy to report that with improved kitchen skills, I now make pancakes from scratch—company‑worthy ones, no less—and I’ve finally overcome the first‑pancake curse.

Why does that first pancake misbehave? A few reasons: the pan isn’t evenly heated yet, the oil hasn’t settled, and the batter is still adjusting to the temperature. So the first one comes out pale, blotchy, or shaped like a map of New Jersey. It’s folklore backed by kitchen physics.

A Final Bite

So, my friend, tuck these sayings away for a quick kitchen chuckle. Just don’t rely on the Five‑Second Rule. That’s one myth best left on the floor—preferably with the jelly‑side down.