Donut Confessional

A bakery is a like a confessional.  Interesting . . . the conversations one overhears while drinking a cup of coffee.

Once, I overheard two women talking about an office romance that one of them was involved in.  Evidently, this is commonplace now, and a bakery (of course) is the perfect place to discuss the nuances of when and how such things "just happen."

On another occasion I overheard a job interview . . . which was not difficult, being that the boss and the prospect were seated within inches of my table.  The boss seemed very pleased by his location selection, but the prospect was, to say the least, both nervous and confused by the proximity and the personal nature of the questions the boss was asking.  At one point the prospect wondered aloud if they could "conduct the remainder of the interview in an office somewhere."  The boss declined, citing his busy schedule and then said, "I don't have any privacy at my office."  What?!  Duh?  The prospect walked away.  I wonder why?

Of course, I like to meet people for conversation in bakeries also.  But my conversations are more in the vein of:  "How about those Cubs?" or "What do you think of that jelly-filled scone?  Feel the buzz yet?"

If I'm going to listen to a person's confession, I'm not going to do it in a bakery.  I'm going to do it in a nice restaurant where the waiter can bring me a moist towelette and a dessert cart.  And if the penitent is willing to pay for my steak, I'm pretty sure all will be forgiven.

Golden Brown Bakery

On Tuesday, April 3, Becky and I stepped into The Golden Brown Bakery in South Haven, Michigan.  It's a mom-and-pop bakery on main street.  The first question I asked was, "What's good here?"

I was directed to the Walnut Log . . . a pickle-shaped cake donut that was sprinkled with sugar and finely-crushed walnuts.  "Do you want some coffee with that?" the attendant asked me.

"By all means," I replied.  "What's a Walnut Log without hot coffee?"

"Half a log," was the answer.

The poet in me began reciting, "Half a log, half a log, half a log onward.  Into the valley of death rode the six hundred."

Okay, but that's just me.  Sorry.

It was a great joy sharing my Walnut Log with Becky.  Some donuts just taste better when you share them.  And when you are in Michigan enjoying a beautiful day, it helps to stumble, unexpectedly, into a great bakery.

Golden Brown.

I won't soon forget you!

Easter Breakfast

One of my favorite days is Easter . . . and not just because, thank God, Christ is risen!  It is also because we have one humdinger of a breakfast . . . and donuts are part of the fare.

An Easter donut is a special treat.  Especially if that donut has Easter egg colors or exudes that special flavor that only Easter donuts possess.  Everything tastes better when the Son is shining.

And, if memory serves, there are also plenty of donuts left over.  Which means I get to bring a few home to enjoy later.  And, with Easter coinciding with the final round of The Masters golf tournament, those donuts might just make their way into my hands down the final fairway.

Fore!

What Happens in the Bakery Stays in the Bakery!

Every now and then, when I meet people in the bakery who are obviously buying a donut, they look skittish and sheepish, as if they are ashamed to be in a bakery, as if their purchase is demeaning to their humanity.  "I know I shouldn't do this," some of them say, "but I just can't help myself."  "These are sinfully good," othesr say.  "I try to stay away," others gasp, "but I am weak."

Indeed.

But, like Luther once proclaimed:  "Sin, and sin boldly."  (I got this quote from some Lutheran friends, but I'm not sure Luther said it . . . kind of like all the fluff people attribute to John Wesley that he never said.)

So . . . I'll say it.

Go ahead and eat a donut now and then.  It is good for the soul. 
    --Todd Outcalt, modern-day donut guru and patron saint of pastries

This quote is taken fresh from my upcoming book:  You Can't Take it With You:  But You Can Carry A Little Around Your Middle.

When I meet a friend in Dunkin' Donuts or Krispy Kreme, I don't turn away.  I face temptation head-on.  I order boldly and pour cream into my coffee, too.  Oh, there are times I'll make a comment like, "Of course, I'm heading to the gym after this" or " . . . this is for my wife, not me!"  But I don't want to add a lie on top of the coconut, so I usually just take a bite. 

If there are other sinners out there who want to form a Krispy Kreme Klub, let me know.  I'll be your pastor. 

Dreaming of Donuts

On Monday, after making hospital visits to IU Methodist and Riley, I found myself dreaming of donuts.  Certain concoctions scrolled through my head:  the lemon filled, the toasted coconut, the chocolate frosted.  I passed several bakeries, including a now-vacant store front that used to be home to Crawfords bakery--directly across the street from Methodist on Capital Ave.

Crawfords was one of those family bakeries that I often visited as an aftershock--especially if I had made a visit in the hospice wing.  When one is dealing in death, a donut is a spirit-filled offering that raises hope as well as blood-sugar levels. 

I often dream of donuts when I'm driving, and I keep my eyes peeled for new opportunities.  I noted two bakeries on 86th street that I hope  to visit in the near future, and I've got them pegged on my GPS.

Strange as it sounds, I also find that I lose weight when I'm eating more donuts.  As I haven't eaten many donuts in the past two weeks, I've gained four pounds.

I've got to get back to my roots.  I've got to visit those new bakeries.

There's a donut waiting for me . . . and it's the one I keep dreaming about.

My Oldest Donuts

Bakeries generally shed day-old donuts.  They usually give them to homeless shelters.  But I'm willing to buy.

A few weeks ago I encountered a pile of these "seconds" in Long's Bakery and had to leave the store with a few in tow.  Inexpensive.

But there's a secret to eating day-old donuts:  Dunk 'em.

Hot coffee is the great equalizer when it comes to seconds.  Dunk a day-old it freshens up quite nicely.

I've dunked donuts so stale they could have been used as a door-stopper.  But once they hit the drink, there's no telling how old they are. 

My oldest donuts have been at least a week old.  I've eaten donuts that were so old, we were on a first-name basis.  I've eaten donuts that were so old, I'm sure they were embalmed.  And I've eaten donuts that were so old, they had outcroppings of new growth on them.  But that just means there is more to love.

The next time you happen upon a bakery, don't look past the day-old shelf.  There are some great bargains there. 

Believe me.  I know.

And remember . . . all things, including donuts, in moderation!

The Pampered Donut

As I prepare to lead my fourth funeral in ten days, I thought I deserved a little extra . . . so this morning I'm going out for donuts (very early in the morning!).  I plan to gorge--since I'll be working out at the gym first.  I plan on drinking my fill of coffee, too.

This year (just like the past two years) I have not "given up" anything for Lent. Instead, I've made a commitment to "add" new disciplines to my life or my practice or my health.  Why take something away when you can add something better?  Anyway, it seems to me Jesus would like adding better than subtracting.  I'd rather serve more, give more, do more, help more, or be more . . . rather than try to be something I ain't or take away something that I'm just going to add back later.  I'd rather add something to my life that might stick around for the longer haul (more on this in my Easter message).

So . . . the donuts stay in my diet.  And hopefully, so will a few new practices.

For now, while I'm burying the dead, I'll be eating lots of pastries.  And if anyone wonders why I'm late to a funeral, don't look for me among the dead, but among the living . . . I'll be the one sitting at the table over a box of Krispy Kremes with a steaming cup of coffee between my hands.

I won't be long, however.  Death never takes a holiday.