Finally!

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A truly important article from the NY Times:

That’s why, I’m sorry to say, if you want a truly great, hot, crisp doughnut, chances are you’re going to have to make it yourself. Like anything involving deep-frying, D.I.Y. doughnuts are a bit of a project, but they’re less work than you might think. And once you’ve mastered the basic recipe — this one is for fluffy yeasted doughnuts, as opposed to the denser cake variety — you can geek out to your heart’s content on the glazes, toppings and fillings.

Happily the NYT article actually links to some recipes.

My aunt has a great recipe for sufganiyot, which are a sort of jam-filled Israeli yeast donut that’s traditionally made for Hannukah, at least by my aunt. I ought to ask her for it.

6 thoughts on “Finally!”

  1. That’s why, I’m sorry to say, if you want a truly great, hot, crisp doughnut, chances are you’re going to have to make it yourself.

    Here is one instance where the NYT and I are in agreement. My favorite doughnut experiences came from my childhood, via Sunday night visits at family friends of my grandparents’ generation. Drop the pieces of dough into the fat. See them float and turn brown. Result: homemade doughnuts, hot and crisp. Which explains why I have always been indifferent to commercial doughnuts, such as those made by Dunkin’ Donuts. And come this February, she who made those delicious doughnuts will have been dead for 50 years. Her husband lasted six months after her death.

  2. I grew up with my grandparents, and coming home from school in the afternoon was often a special treat. My grandmother was a professional baker, as her mother was, and a few days a week she would be making bread, or pies, or donuts.

    I was often her kitchen helper, as she had been for her mother in their bakery in Chicago, and would help with mixing, holding bowls, etc. The best part, of course, was when the job was finished, and we took a break to sample the goodies she had made.

    It is one of my fondest memories, like fishing with my grandfather, or my mom taking me to see monster movies at the local theater—sitting at the kitchen table with a big glass of cold milk and some fresh donuts or still warm buttered bread.

    I have tried to duplicate some of these little memories for my kids as they grew up, and, along the way, they all learned how to bake, cook, and fish.

    I can only hope they feel the same way about those times as I have for the last half century. Later in life, when all the stresses and strains pile up, it helps to be able to go back to a quiet moment when you felt totally safe, and happy, and loved.

    There are far too many people in this world, I fear, who do not have any such place to go to when they need it. Very sad.

  5. My father had a phase where he was making bagels. They were incredibly good. If he hadn’t stop with all of become obese just from eating the bagels.

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