I’m the sort that if I accomplish something successfully, I continue to do it with hypervigilant gusto. My experiment with bread and roll making led to an attempt to make my own pizza dough. The dough got high marks from family, but I used the wrong cheese. DO NOT PURCHASE VELVEETA SHREDDED MOZZARELLA. It’s awful. When we scraped the cheese off, the pizza was okay. On that note, I shall leave pizza construction to the professionals, and gladly pay them for their labor.
I live on the edge of Mennonite country, on the border of Morgantown and Elverson, in Pennsylvania. Due to my inability to process high-fructose corn syrup (yes, it’s a real condition, not a dietary choice) I must trek to a Mennonite-owned grocery called Shady Maple. I waited out Shabbos and hauled my ass down there on a Saturday. Mistake.
Shady Maple is a prime example of Mennonite entrepreneurialism; it is a complex housing a grocery, a dry-goods store, and a buffet-style restaurant that attracts tourists every day of the week–but mostly on weekends. It is the only place within reasonable driving distance that I can acquire Boylan Soda. In Texas, there was a variety of real-sugar soda–but in PA, fuhgeddaboutit!
While the spouse and I were in line with my soda and butter (I ran out making cinnamon rolls), we were standing behind a couple of ladies purchasing some meat, hair-dye, and doughnuts. As my spouse expressed his concerns about an employee at his company that had suffered a heart attack, I found myself silently outraged at the crap collection of doughnuts in the clear plastic blister pack, on the check-out belt before me. Shady Maple Bakery is renown throughout Berks County for its amazing doughnuts, filled with all sorts of fruit, pudding, and cream-like goodness. These two women purchased six everyday ring doughnuts. Unlike their gorgeous and thick counterparts back at the bakery (they were magnificent that day, I saw them!) these uncoated, bland-ass wheels of suck appeared to be the ugliest things I’d ever seen. One had the audacity to try and be sweet, donning a light pink coating that was doused with white sprinkles. White sprinkles. Those alone should be outlawed.
It hit me then, as I stood annoyed at the shit doughnut choices made by a stranger, what a shallow douche I am. I resisted the urge to interrupt my spouse’s kind words on a coworker with a snarky screed on how some people have taste buds for shit. I kept my outrage to myself because expressing it would expose to all the shallow douche I know myself, to be.
I miss doughnuts.