Americans love their donuts. An 1803 English cookbook included doughnuts in the “American recipes” section. Homer Simpson says they are a domestic invention. Can’t argue with facts. Baseball, hot dogs, apple pie, and donuts.
A year ago we had fun with an article on donut pans. Complete with linked Homer sound bites. Our USA Pans 6-Well Donut Pan continues to please! But the best donuts do not come from our kitchen. They come from a local farmer’s market.
It’s the smell that sets me off. Math skills crumble. Resistance is futile. Calorie counting, after a healthy meal at Reading Terminal Market, is forgotten. Sauntering post-lunch, how many times does one seem to end up “entirely by chance” in the Northwest Corner of Reading Terminal. Home to Beiler’s Donuts and Salads (Ha! I see a line of 20 people for donuts, but if you want a salad, there’s no waiting!)
Deeply embedded instinctual desires for sweets overcomes even the most hardened fitness buff. We are led . . . no, pulled, towards donuts . . . but if even the tiniest bit of rational sense can struggle to the surface, we approach with only a single dollar in our hands.
That’s it. 95¢ for a ticket to heaven. Churches would be packed if they gave out vouchers like this. Apple & blueberry fritters seem the most popular. Between the two, one of them will be just-out-of-the-fryer. I’ll purchase just one. There’s always tomorrow.