I happen to love doughnuts. I’d never made doughnuts from scratch until I went to Italy and made bombolini. However, I do remember making phony doughnuts when I was a kid. Basically, you buy some Grands biscuits or some other vacuum packed biscuit dough, punch a hole in the middle and fry the ring in vegetable oil. A few minutes later, you have little dough balls packed with fat and sugar. Oh, yah!
Doughnuts from a doughnut shop are far more ‘cakey’ than the vacuumed packed fried biscuit dough from my youth. Well made glazed doughnuts are a thing of beauty to me. It’s up there with vanilla ice cream and a bar of dark chocolate, simple goodness, without pretension. Be it the foodie elite or a 6 year old child, doughnuts are something wholesome and good.
Bingo Doughnuts at 2am on a Saturday night were wholesome and good. They were fresh. They looked perfect. They were golden brown and slightly shiny from glaze. I’d almost forgotten about grubbing on doughnuts at 2am. I’ve been thinking about tacos or pho recently and forgotten about this late-night classic. The cliché of cops eating doughnuts and drinking coffee on the graveyard shift is engrained in our culture, but it totally slipped my mind. Somewhere in my foodie haze of tacos, I’d forgotten about an American Classic.
I’m happy that doughnuts are back on my late-night radar.