I want to make it clear that I love frying things. I love it. Doughnuts, chicken, onion rings, fries—I want them all deep-fried to golden perfection. Not baked. Not. Baked. Because let’s be real, baked versions of things that are supposed to be fried are rarely worth eating. Like, if I want a doughnut, I don’t want what amounts to a muffin baked in a ring mold. And if I want fried chicken, I don’t want it “oven-fried.” Just give me the real deal, or don’t give it to me at all.
All that said, I had a little change of heart a few weeks ago while making dinner. I had an unallocated potato that needed using, and decided to try to make oven fries with the main goal of them not just being fry-shaped roasted potatoes. I wanted crisp, golden, fluffy-centered fries, but without the pot of hot oil. It seemed like an impossible goal at the time.
I am here to tell you that I achieved this goal. I achieved it in style. And now I feel so silly for being so adamantly opposed to Oven Fries for upwards of a decade. I’m just opposed to lousy oven fries, ya know? But these are anything but lousy. They’re crispy, salty, and bear little resemblance to any roasted potatoes I’ve come across (though that is fundamentally what they are, of course).
The secret to great Oven Fries is treating them as much like regular fries as possible. This means using classic, starchy russet potatoes and starting with a soak in cold water. I add some salt and baking soda to the water to help pull all the starches in the sliced potatoes to their surfaces. This leads to crispy outsides and fluffy insides every time.
After soaking, make sure to pat your fries as dry as you can so they sear more than they steam. Toss them with about a tablespoon of oil per potato and a hefty pinch of salt, then spread them out on a couple of sheet pans and roast them high and fast, flipping when they’re golden on one side. Heads up that if you’re using dark (coated) pans, your fries will brown faster than they will on the aluminum pans I use.
When your Oven Fries are done, make sure to hit them with another big pinch of salt for a little extra punch (and crunch!). You can also dust them with a favorite spice blend or scatter some crispy garlic over the top—however you like your fries. I’m a no-frills fry kind of human, so all I need is a little side of ketchup.
Y’all, these are so good. Crispy, with soft centers and an irresistible golden brown color—not a masquerading plain roasted potato in the bunch. These are Oven Fries good enough to change even the staunchest fried food defender. Dare I say, they’re Oven Fries worth eating. Oven Fries…to love?
I’ll see myself out.
Oven Fries
makes 2 large or 3-4 small servings
2 large russet potatoes
cold water
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
Kosher or sea salt, to taste
2-3 tablespoons neutral oil (I used canola)
ketchup (or other dipping sauce), for serving
Scrub potatoes, and peel if desired. Transfer them to a cutting board. Use a large, sharp chef’s knife to slice potatoes into pieces approximately 1 centimeter thick.
Place all potato pieces in a medium mixing bowl, and add enough cold water to cover. For extra deep golden fries, add baking soda and 1/2 teaspoon salt to the water. Let potato pieces soak for 30 minutes.
Meanwhile, place the oven racks in central positions. Turn the oven to 450F.
Once 30 minutes have passed, drain water from potatoes. Dry potato pieces well with a clean kitchen towel.
Divide potatoes between two dry rimmed baking sheets. Drizzle each pan with 1-1 1/2 tablespoons oil. Season well with salt. Use your hands to toss all pieces to coat. Arrange potato pieces in a single layer with none touching each other.
Bake fries for 15 minutes. At this point, they should all be turning golden on the underside; if they’re not, let them bake another 5 minutes and check again. Use a spatula to flip them all over, then rearrange them into an even layer with none touching. Rotate the pans top-to-bottom and back-to-front. Bake 15-20 more minutes, or until golden to your liking.
Remove the fries from the oven and salt again, if desired.
Serve immediately with ketchup or other dipping sauce, if desired.
If you’re thinking “Doesn’t she already have a cornbread recipe on here?” the answer is 
I have never been a particularly picky eater, but I have spent the majority of my 35+ years hating beets. Hating them. My mom used to serve pickled beets at least once a week, which meant I had to choke down (and I do mean “choke”) one or two with some regularity until I grew up, moved out, and lived a blissfully beetless existence until three years ago. I’d still be beet-free today if it weren’t for a request for them for a birthday dinner.
As I prepared for this party (remember parties?), I looked online for beet roasting methods and mostly saw the same one: wrap beets in foil, roast them whole, let them cool, rub off the skins with your hands, and slice. It seemed like a lot of time and work for something I couldn’t stand. Instead, I took a gamble and did things the easy way: giving my beets a really good scrub, lopping off the root and tip, slicing them into thick wedges, and roasting them with olive oil, cumin and salt until caramelized.
Being a careful cook, I had to taste the finished beets for seasoning regardless of personal preference, so I scrunched my nose, closed my eyes (?), took a tiny bite and…they were delicious. Earthy and sweet, yes, but also salty, smoky and crisp-edged. I couldn’t believe it—one of my top five all-time least favorite foods! Delicious! Sometimes it just takes the right preparation to change someone’s life (er, palate).
Now, I don’t know if I’ve actually changed—you won’t find me eating pickled beets out of the jar anytime soon. But these? I’ve made them at least once a week for the last three years and I freaking love them. They’re so easy and so good, the perfect low-maintenance side dish. I’ll throw a pan of Easy Cumin Roasted Beets in the oven alongside a chicken, serve them with fresh hummus on a casual night in, or pair them with feta and greens for a killer beet salad.
Did I just say “killer beet salad”? Maybe I’ve changed after all.
Southern-style 
All that said, I’ve never really gotten on the drop biscuit train. I guess I thought they were cheating or something—the ingredients and mixing methods are nearly identical, but you don’t have to pat and cut anything, instead scooping the sticky dough directly onto a pan before baking. I suppose that without dirtying a surface or doing extra work I assumed that they were a slightly-less-good version of the “real deal.” But I was wrong. So, so wrong.
Turns out, drop biscuits are their own thing entirely. They’re fluffy and tender instead of flaky and layered, and they have these extra crispy-crunchy exteriors with which I am now fully obsessed. And the recipe works with both whole milk and buttermilk, and (!) I don’t have to scrape an invisible layer of butter and flour off of my countertop every time I make a batch. Drop biscuits, where have you been all my life???
I won’t lie to you: drop biscuits are not a traditionally beautiful food. They’re scraggly, craggy and have slightly wonky shapes, regardless of whether you use a cookie scoop, a spoon or your hands to dole out dough. They’re super delicious, just a little ugly. Or at least they are until you give them a glossy coat of salty-sweet honey butter.
Ohhh yes.
e2 bakes brooklyn 