Remember donuts?

It used to be easier to get and have donuts. When I was a kid donuts and danish or sweet rolls used to be a weekend treat for Saturday or Sunday morning. My dad would get up early and go to the bakery downtown and come back with a white bag full of goodness. With luck there would be at least a dozen different kinds. We all had our favorites I think. I liked plain cake donuts, not the raised yeast donuts, with chocolate frosting of course. I did like the raised style, especially Long Johns, filled with custard, which hopefully didn’t squish out and plop down the front of me. Oh my, filled donuts…let me take a moment….okay.
Sweet rolls, danish (and cringle if we were at Grandma’s in Racine), were just as desireable as donuts really. They were easy to cut in half and try a little of each without really making a committment. They just don’t bake with butter like they used to do they? I was a method eater myself. I’d eat around the filled center then pop the last bite in my mouth all at once. It was self preservation really. It avoided opportunity to drop down the front of me, and quickly put an end to any thoughts any of my brothers or sisters had of asking for a bite at that prime moment.   
My husband has always been partial to cruellers. Back home in Wisconsin they are heavy, cake style, formed in sticks and glazed. Perfect for dunking! You can’t get cruellers here so sometimes a willing guest brings a bag full when they come to visit. Donuts are a prize…
…A prize at and for work. People used to bring donuts to work, especially when that famous national donut chain came to town. (But can I just say, those aren’t what real donuts taste like?!) Donuts are a celebration. Giving donuts oozes esteem. Donuts are a signal good work has been done, or, conversly, we are working hard so need fortification.
At least that is what donuts used to mean. Now everyone is all health conscious. We talk ourselves out of donuts by calling them fried dough and using the dreaded "F" word with emphasis—FRIED dough. We compare our consumption stomach ache stories cause by the digestive distress from eating them. Really, it can be painful. And we keep the dangers of sugar in the forefront of our mind—refined sugar kills.  
Oh well. Those were the days. Someday in Heaven there will be donuts again on Saturday morning.  

About Robin Arnold

Reader, writer, gardener, geek, maker of homes in several states, now settled in Virginia with husband Bob, and Hazel and Wilson the tabby cats.
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