Who the hell doesn't like doughnuts? I know there are those out there who prefer the dramatic cinnamon roll or would skip breakfast sweets altogether in favor of savory eggs or a nice congealed meatstuff, but all those people are clearly insane. And communists.
The doughnut is shrouded in mystery. Well, not really. Although food historians are not positive on its origins, I'd like to think it came from the European innovators of baked goods, the Dutch. They gave us pie and fritters and all that, but when some sly baker in the mid-nineteenth century poked a hole in the middle so the dough would cook more thoroughly, he stumbled onto greatness. It would soon kick the sorry ass of rolls, scones, bagels and biscuits in any brawl in any flour-lined dark alley from here to
Why mention the
Hell no, they don't!
The original glazed doughnut is soft and sweet and does everything a good doughnut should. They pair up with either hot coffee or cold milk and the breakfast bread goes down smooth. Sometimes it sticks to the roof of your mouth like the first scoop of peanut butter.
I personally prefer to spell doughnut with the "ugh". Krispy Kreme misspells everything in its name except its product. Dunkin Donuts bats .1000. There is something satisfying about the word itself. It has the 'dough' up front. That word seems to be from another age, when mothers used to cook for their children. It's folksy; you can only find it inside the cooking world anymore.
Doughnuts are also friends to singles and tweakers and club kids and drunks and people on the fringes, especially here in
Why are these delights in a box so special to me? Simply that. I keep them special. I don't have them very often. I could have doughnuts all the time. I live in
Powdered. Chocolate. Cream filled. Jelly. Who cares? If you can't enjoy a goddamned doughnut I don't know how to make you happy.