Long Way Home

I had to do it.  On Monday, while driving back from a hospital visit, I was lured off the road near Speedway by the scent of Long's Bakery.  The line was long inside the doors, but I knew the outcome would be worth it.

I ordered two fried cinnamon buns and a cup of coffee (which was scalding, as I received the first fresh cup from the brew).  Ate both of these buns before I drove past the Speedway itself, the curbs still littered with debris from the Brickyard 400.  Smooth eating, those Long's Bakery delights.

But here's the kicker.  (And don't ask me how I do it.)

After eating these buns, and weighing myself at the gym, I proceeded to work out vigorously for 25 minutes, during which time I performed some of my heaviest leg presses in months, did triceps work, deltoids, abdominals, and closed with calf raises.  I was huffing, puffing, and sweating my T-shirt through and some minutes later, weighed two pounds less than when I entered the gym.

Not a bad way to chase down two fried cinnamon buns . . . and doing a little bun work of my own.

I feel light as a feather now, and ready for a couple more treats from Long's.  Send me in coach!

Olympic Eating

Should doughnut eating be an Olympic event? 

The Olympic emblem suggests it should . . . as observers will note that the emblem is designed of five interlocking donuts:  a strawberry one, a chocolate one, blueberry, lemon and lime.  The guy who designed this thing was obviously a big fan and was probably ambling his way through a boxed-dozen when the Olympic committee called and asked him to submit a drawing.

Immediately, doughnuts came to mind.

What the background stories on our athletes will never reveal, of course, is that many of the top stars eat these things before they compete.  Oh, sure, you probably won't see a gymnast or one of those skinny equestrian-riders stuffing themselves, but you can't tell me that the big mamma who throws the hammer or the rolly-polly shot-putter from Topeka, Kansas doesn't nail down a half dozen before each event.  And I'm not going to get into the Olympic weight lifters or the wrestlers who, obviously, have consumed boxes of these things.  It's an Olympic tradition.

In a few days, when we begin watching the events from London, watch for the faint traces of powdered sugar on some our athletes.  Evidence will be there if you look closely enough. 

Terre Haute, Indiana

On Thursday I will be driving through Terre Haute, Indiana (the town Steve Martin once said was destroyed by a Jell-O bomb).  I plan to stop in at one of the oldest Indiana donut landmarks:  Square Donuts.  On Wabash Avenue.

Interesting feature, these donuts.  They are not round.  But square.  Hence the name.  Glazed, too.

I hope to bring back a full report from Square Donuts to share here on this blog in the coming week.  And if they have any gourmet donuts, I may try a few of those, too.

Let the eating begin.

Gourmet Donuts

A recent article in a business magazine noted that "gourmet donuts" are now a billion-dollar-a-year industry, with new and surprising dough concoctions cropping up in shops across the nation.  Whereas, the typical donut shop might charge up to $1 for a "regular" donut, the new gourmet versions are topping out at the $5 mark (or even more).

The new fare, with combinations like chili-mango and apricot-and-Cinnamon, seem to be the new fad, and many people seem willing--even in a tough economy--to plunk down a five-spot for a bite of a newfangled taste-sensation.

My hunch is that this trend will trend away, along with crocs and leisure suits and pet rocks.  The average person, I don't think, is going to walk away with a five dollar donut, no matter how unique or finely-tuned it may be.

However, there are been stranger trends in the world of food.  As the author points out in the article, the gourmet donut is not touted as a donut at all, but as a super-treat along the lines of a dessert or point-of-purchase delicacy.  The idea is, if people will buy a five dollar ice cream cone (and they do!) or pay five dollars for a dessert (heck, most desserts cost more!) then they will most certainly spring for a five dollar donut of superior quality (and they are!).

Well, I'll be going in search of some of these big game fish in the coming weeks.  I've got a roll of fivers in my wallet earmarked for the catch and a series of blogs waiting in review.  And if anyone out there has a gourmet donut I should try, don't hesitate to drop me a line.  I'll bite. 

The flavor and the aroma will most certainly reel me in.

Oil Change and a Donut

This morning I drove my car to Big O Tire's in Brownsburg for an oil change.  Distance from my house:  about 400 yards.  Next door to the Big O Tire is Dunkin' Donuts.  Distance from my house:  about 300 yards. 

Solution:  Drop the car off for an oil change and pick up donuts for the walk home. 

Of course, I'm still waiting for Dunkin' Donuts to call me about my job application.  I'm still willing to unlock at 4:30 a.m. each morning and get the donuts going.  I'm still the man to call when there is 3 feet of snow on the ground and all the cars are stranded in ditches.  I'm still the man for quality control.

Give me a quart of milk and a clean glass . . . I'm good to go.

In a New York Minute

Here's the thing:  anybody craving a donut in New York doesn't have to walk far to find a bakery.  There are donuts on nearly even street corner.  Bakeries--particularly bagel factories--are as plentiful as fleas.

Every morning, during our stay at the hotel Pennsylvania, my wife and I would rise early enough to beat the crowds to the "free" continental breakfast fare at the hotel coffee shop.  We were not disappointed. 

In addition to some fine New York-style coffee (which we both enjoyed immensely) we were impressed by the fresh donuts and pastries we could select.  I grew to love the cheese danish . . . and I'm sure these arrived fresh each morning from a local bakery, probably located around the corner.

The great thing about eating donuts in New York--particularly if one is a tourist--is that even the stingiest metabolisms are no match for the amount of energy required to traverse the subway or press forward through the masses on the sidewalks.  A tourist must walk for miles--and be willing to endure pain, hardship, humiliation, and the occasional drunk or panhandler or pick-pocket, in order to arrive at the new destination.

Donuts are not a wimpy fare in New York, but a necessity.  One must have calories to burn, carbs to fuel up the heavy pace of a day filled with stifling noise, obscenities, irate cabbies, and the energies required to stand in long lines for hours in the scorching sun. 

Donuts are not for wimps.  That's why I eat them: to remind myself that real men eat dough and frequently dunk.  It's not about gaining weight.  In New York it's about clinging to one's sanity.