No-Fry Potato Doughnuts

Danny's anniversary. Fifteen years. I went to Holy Cross alone this time — Tommy at daycare, Megan at school. Just me and Danny. Fifteen years. Half my life. I have been alive without Danny for as long as I was alive with him. The math doesn't mean anything and means everything.

I told Danny about the new baby. "Another one," I said. "Megan's pregnant again. We're collecting Kowalskis like baseball cards." I told him about the head brewer position. About the savings account for Helen's. About Tommy running through the house and opening the refrigerator and eating pierogi with his hands. I told him everything because Danny is the person I tell everything to, even though he can't hear, even though he's been gone for half my life, even though talking to a headstone in March makes me look insane and feel sane.

Megan's note: "Say hi to Uncle Danny. We love you. Tommy wore the 8 today." Fifteen notes. Fifteen years. The stack in the recipe box is a small book now — a book written one Post-it at a time, in blue ink, by a woman who never met the boy but carries him because she carries me.

Made sauerkraut pierogi. Danny's filling. Fifteen years of the same dough, the same filling, the same fold. The ritual that doesn't age, doesn't fade, doesn't lose its meaning through repetition. The opposite: it gains meaning. Every year the pierogi are more important. Every year the tradition is deeper. Fifteen years of showing up. Fifteen years of dough and remembrance. The tradition holds. The tradition always holds.

The small Milwaukee-winter is the small six-month-condition. The small cold-weather-comfort-food rotation runs October through April. The small soups, the small stews, the small braises, the small heavy-baked-goods. The small Midwestern-comfort-vocabulary is the small kitchen-language.

Megan and Jake married in June 2024. The small newlywed-rhythm is in its small second year. The small two-bedroom rental on the small east-side of Milwaukee continues to be the small first-home. The small thirty-year-mortgage-eventually-someday is the small five-year-goal. The small marriage is the small foundation the small life is being built on.

The small Polish-American heritage is the small kitchen-identity. The small pierogi-recipe-cards from Babcia Helen (Jake’s grandmother who passed in 2018, who had lived two blocks from the small Bay-View family-house) is the small monthly-Saturday-tradition. The small kielbasa-and-sauerkraut. The small bigos. The small recipes that came over from the small Krakow-region in the small 1910s.

The small Lakefront Brewery shift-work continues to be the small steady-paycheck. The small forty-hour-week brewery-floor job pays the small twenty-two-an-hour rate that the small Milwaukee-blue-collar-economy supports. The small benefits are the small union-decent. The small ten-year-tenure-target is the small career-anchor.

Megan is from a small Irish-Catholic Milwaukee-suburban family. The small Sunday-dinners at her small parents’ house rotate with the small Sunday-dinners at Jake’s parents’ house. The small in-laws on both sides have been the small welcoming-presence. The small two-family-network is the small extended-support the small newlywed-life rests on.

The small future-kid-conversations have begun. Megan teaches small fourth-grade at a small public school in Wauwatosa. The small adoption-vs-biological conversation is in the small early-discussion stage. The small five-year-plan includes the small kid-or-kids in some form. The small kitchen is the small place where the small future is being practiced.

Every year it’s the same hands in the same dough — and this year, after fifteen years, after the cemetery and the note and Tommy eating pierogi straight from the fridge, I needed to stay in the kitchen a little longer. These no-fry potato doughnuts are Danny’s kind of food: humble, filling, made from what you already have, rooted in the same Polish-American pantry Babcia Helen kept. Rolling dough by hand on a March afternoon is its own kind of conversation, and I wasn’t ready to stop talking yet.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 32 minutes | Servings: 12 doughnuts

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup mashed potatoes, cooled (plain, no butter or milk added)
2 large eggs
1/2 cup whole milk
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup powdered sugar or cinnamon sugar, for coating

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a standard doughnut pan with nonstick spray or softened butter and set aside.
Mix dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, nutmeg, and granulated sugar until evenly combined.
Mix wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, beat the eggs lightly, then stir in the cooled mashed potatoes, milk, melted butter, and vanilla extract until smooth. The mashed potato will make the mixture look slightly lumpy — that’s fine.
Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently with a wooden spoon or spatula until just combined. Do not overmix; a few small lumps are normal. The batter will be thick.
Fill the pan. Spoon or pipe the batter evenly into the prepared doughnut pan, filling each cavity about 3/4 full. If you don’t have a doughnut pan, drop rounded tablespoons onto a parchment-lined baking sheet and press a small hole through the center of each with a floured finger.
Bake. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, until the doughnuts are set, lightly golden on top, and a toothpick inserted into the thickest part comes out clean. Do not overbake — they should stay soft and tender inside.
Cool briefly. Let the doughnuts cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack. They should release easily.
Coat and serve. While still warm, roll each doughnut in powdered sugar or cinnamon sugar to coat. Serve immediately for the best texture, or store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 2 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

No-Fry Potato Doughnuts — The Dough That Holds the Memory