Old-Fashioned Doughnuts

Brianna's week. Aiden started basketball camp on Monday Γçö Brianna drops him off in the morning, Mama picks him up after. I got the report from Aiden on FaceTime Tuesday night: he learned a spin move, he made three-pointers (the hoop is eight feet, but I didn't say that), and some kid named Terrence can dribble behind his back. Aiden said this like Terrence had personally offended him. The competitive gene is dominant in this family. I told him to learn from Terrence. He said he was going to beat Terrence. He will learn from Terrence by trying to beat Terrence. That's how it works.

With the apartment to myself I did what I always do on quiet weeks Γçö cooked and thought. Dangerous combination. Made a pot of red beans and rice Monday night, Mama's recipe, the one she got from her mother who brought it up from Louisiana. Soak the beans overnight. Saut├⌐ the trinity Γçö onion, celery, bell pepper. Andouille sausage sliced on the bias. Beans in with stock, bay leaf, thyme, a ham hock if you've got one, and I had one because I bought a smoked ham hock on Saturday specifically for this. Simmer low and slow for three hours, mashing some beans against the pot to make it creamy. Serve over long-grain rice. Monday-night red beans. My grandmother made them. My mother makes them. Now I make them. The recipe didn't change. The kitchen did. The city did. But the beans are the same beans, and there's something holy in that even if I can't name it.

Ate red beans for three days straight because a pot of red beans for one person is an act of optimism or poor planning and I'm not sure which. Thursday I shifted to sandwiches out of self-preservation.

Jerome called Friday. Said he ran numbers on the Livernois space. Said if we both put in fifteen thousand we could cover the build-out and first six months of rent. I said Jerome I don't have fifteen thousand dollars. He said you've got time to save it. I said how much time. He said the landlord's not going anywhere and neither are we. He's patient, Jerome. More patient than me. I hung up and opened my banking app and looked at the savings account Γçö the one I started for Aiden's college. Fifty dollars a paycheck. It's not fifteen thousand. It's not close. But it's something, and something is where everything starts.

I’ve been thinking about what it means to make something the old way, on purpose, in a kitchen that’s different from the one where you first tasted it — and these old-fashioned doughnuts are that same kind of act for me. The week was quiet, the thinking was loud, and somewhere between Friday’s phone call and Saturday morning I needed my hands in something real. These are the ones you fry low and slow, the craggy-edged kind your grandmother didn’t explain so much as demonstrate. That’s enough of a reason.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 45 min (plus 1 hr chill) | Servings: 12 doughnuts

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp fine salt
3/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
2 large eggs, room temperature
1/2 cup full-fat sour cream
2 tbsp unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
Vegetable or canola oil, for frying (about 2 quarts)
1 cup powdered sugar (for glaze or dusting)
2–3 tbsp whole milk (if glazing)

Instructions

Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, granulated sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, nutmeg, and cinnamon until evenly combined.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs, sour cream, melted butter, and vanilla extract until smooth.
Combine and rest the dough. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and stir with a wooden spoon or rubber spatula until a soft, slightly sticky dough forms. Do not overmix. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour (up to overnight) — this makes the dough easier to handle and improves texture.
Roll and cut. On a lightly floured surface, turn out the chilled dough and pat it gently to about 3/4-inch thickness. Use a 3-inch round cutter (or the rim of a glass) to cut doughnuts, then use a 1-inch cutter for the holes. Gather scraps, re-pat, and cut again. You should get about 12 doughnuts and 12 holes.
Heat the oil. Pour oil into a heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven to a depth of about 3 inches. Heat over medium to 350°F, using a candy or instant-read thermometer to monitor. Adjust heat as needed to maintain temperature throughout frying.
Fry in batches. Carefully lower 3–4 doughnuts into the hot oil at a time — do not crowd the pot. Fry 2 to 2 1/2 minutes per side until deep golden brown and cooked through. The edges will be craggy and irregular, which is correct. Remove with a slotted spoon to a wire rack set over a baking sheet to drain. Fry holes separately; they take about 1 minute per side.
Glaze or dust. For a simple glaze, whisk powdered sugar with 2–3 tbsp milk until smooth and pourable. Dip warm doughnuts face-down, let excess drip off, and return to the rack. Alternatively, dust with plain powdered sugar while still warm. Allow glaze to set for 10 minutes before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Old-Fashioned Doughnuts — Some Recipes Are Just an Act of Faith