We had a doughnut fry yesterday. But before I write about that, I have to mention this. I seem to have an unusually strong connection with the past. I'm sure that many of the things that I like to make or do seem old-fashioned. And that is exactly why I do them.
For instance, I like to knit. And one of the reasons I knit is because it reminds me of my grandma. When I sit and make that soft tic-tic sound with my needles, it's as if grandma is right there beside me, her hands busy as they always were. If ever a turkey dressing is required, I can only make her recipe. It doesn't matter that I've seen hundreds of different recipes, and some of them actually sound good. If I'm going to make it, it has to be hers. The same thing goes for pie. Perish the thought of making anything other than my mother's pie crust recipe.
And so, back to doughnuts.
Making doughnuts requires a wintry day. It's best if you've been out sledding or tubing and come in to warm up and find hot, crispy doughnuts waiting. At least, that's the way it was for me and my cousins when I was growing up. In fact, the only time we had homemade doughnuts was after a full day in the snow. We'd come home to hot chili, cocoa, and Aunt Ann's steaming, crispy doughnuts, fresh from the fryer.
That's the ideal, anyway. And I've attempted to recreate that mood a couple of times in the past. But it didn't happen yesterday. It was wintry, but we didn't play in the snow. I made up a batch of dough, then we sat down and settled into an involved game of Settlers of Catan: Cities and Knights. We fried the doughnuts later, after Jeff had proved himself, once again, the master of games in our family. The girls helped cut them, I did the frying, and Tamsyn dunked them in glaze. Megyn ended up with a splash of hot oil on her finger, but it wasn't bad enough to spoil the fun. We enjoyed them with hot cocoa and sticky fingers.
Would it have been easier to run to the grocery store and buy some? Sure, but who said passing along tradition was easy?