The Perfect Glazed Donut

It is hard not to love donuts. Not that we should love them- they are nothing but sugar and carbohydrates fried, covered and filled with more sugar. There is not a single nutritionally redeeming quality to them. But they are delicious. It cannot be denied. And for me, the pinnacle of donut greatness is the glazed donut. Genius in its simplicity of light texture and silken sweet coating, the glazed donut is what I always come back to. Don't get me wrong- I am often led astray by the wiles of the Long John or Bavarian cream, with their chocolate topping and custard centers, but my heart will always belong to the perfect glazed donut.

Unfortunately, I have not experienced the truly perfect glazed donut since I was a teenager. Believe me, there have been some close runners-up, but nothing has reached the perfection of the glazed donuts my Dad used to pick up in Morehead on a Sunday morning. I am not even sure where he used to get them (maybe the different grocery incarnations that lived in what is now the Sloan's Market) but they would appear almost like magic when my sister and I groggily stumbled out of bed on Sunday to get ready for church. Nothing since has lived up to the memory of those idealized treats.

There is one other note to this story. As a child, I got the chance to participate in donut greatness. As I have mentioned, my grandfather owned a bakery and restaurant well before I was the twinkle in any one's eye. His donuts were the stuff of legend, and I can't tell the number of times I was told about Dad having to go in to the bakery before school to start the donuts, and then smelling like them for the rest of the day, much to his chagrin. (Seems to me that the girls he went to high school with would have been drawn like flies, but perhaps they didn't want to acknowledge the lust in their hearts- for donuts anyway.)

I don't remember exactly how old I was when my brush with greatness occurred, but I would guess somewhere around 10. It was a Saturday morning, and Dad woke my sister and me up and told us to get dressed. He then packed us in the car and dropped us off at Da and Gran's house with no explanation. Once inside, we realized we were going to do something new that day. We spent the morning making donuts from scratch with Da. Gran assisted with keeping us clean, but mostly watched the show. We went through the entire process, creating the dough, watching rise, cutting the donuts, watching them rise, frying the donuts (which Da did and we watched from a safe distance) and most hands-on, glazing the donuts. We did the the really old fashioned way with our fingers, and while we definitely ended up with some scorched fingertips in the end, it was absolutely worth it

By the time we were finished with everything and the donuts were cooling on racks, it was time for lunch. Da made sandwiches for everyone and the 4 of us sat down to eat. Once finished Da got up from the table and brought back a TRAY of donuts. He looked at me and Kristi and said "Have at it". It was like Christmas and our birthdays all rolled into one. We ate, and ate and ATE. I couldn't even hazard a guess at how many donuts we managed to eat that day, but our little bellies were swollen by the time we were done. When I had come to a stopping point, Da asked me if I wanted anymore. I told him the truth- I really wanted to eat more, but I was afraid I would throw up if I did. Coming from a 10 year-old that must have been pretty funny because he threw his head back and laughed and laughed.

I will continue with my search for the perfect glazed donut, but as I look back on this I realize that I probably will never find anything as sweet or perfect as I have already had.