Friday, October 28, 2005
A Halloween Haul
Ah, Halloween. Candy corn and apple cider, donuts and more apple cider. Trick or treating and yet more cider. It's a great time of year, even though I'm 13 or 14 years removed from my trick or treating days.
What I'm finding out, though, is that Halloween is even better in Southern California--the lack of fall colors, chilly evenings, and plentiful apple cider not withstanding.
You see, today started the beginning of the Great Halloween Haul of 2005.
It began at 3pm today with "Fall Fest" at my office, where spouses and children were invited to come in at 3pm for some trick or treating and refreshments (as though you need them when you're walking around the office gathering candy). All of the attorneys and secretaries left out bowls of candy for the children to come by and stick in their bags. I have never seen such a high concentration of good candy*. The firm is obviously taking good care of its employees when so many can afford Reeses and Snickers. So Jared came by as Pooh Bear and charmed the office, filling his bag with goodies as he made the rounds. He quickly caught on to what was supposed to happen--when he saw a bowl of candy, his job was to go get some of it.
Then this evening the whole Irvine Stake met in the church parking lot for a Trunk or Treat. Jared again went as Pooh Bear, Michelle as an Angel (she didn't even need a costume for that, though she wore one still), and I went as the character I thought most fitting: Mr. Incredible (Jared called me "Mr. Incredible Daddy", which I liked too).
Our decorated trunk that had kids having to fish for candy in the trunk--Michelle's idea. (Last night we taped paper clips to the candy and then fastened magnets to make shift fishing rods). Michelle and I took turns between monitoring the fishing and making the rounds to other trunks.
Most were gracious in giving out candy. I'm sure some people, though, were wondering just who the treats were for as I dutifully carted him around from trunk to trunk. A young boy not even 2 can only eat so much candy--even if his parents make no effort to regulate his intake.
By the end it was dark, and Jared was very tired (we'd find out later that he actually has a fever and has probably been sick most of the afternoon. Our little trooper, though, still put in a full day of trick or treating).
We came home, gave Jared some medicine and some snuggles, put him to bed, and then looked over today's haul. It was as though Michelle and I were ourselves still trick or treaters. Here's what we took in:
Of course, what we took in tonight was but a shadow of some of the famous Clark Family Trick or Treating Halloween Hauls in days past (There were years when we trained for Halloween night, making my younger siblings run wind sprints to be ready to run from house to house when All Hallow's Eve arrived. It's the stuff of legends). It's not a bad haul, though, for someone Jared's age. I daresay it's a promising sign of Halloweens to come.
The funny thing is it isn't even Halloween yet--we still have another whole evening of trick or treating if he's up for it. I've already scouted out some areas here in Irvine where we might minimize time spent between houses and maximize the number of quality treats (good candy).
Our main aim on Monday, though, may be more to try and find some decent cider around here, and the right donuts to match that cider. Oh yes, don't let anyone fool you into thinking that one size (or flavor) fits all when it comes to donuts. Some are more suited to certain occasions than others.
But that's a post for another time.
Happy Halloween!
*The term "good candy" should be self-explanatory, but if there's chocolate involved, it's likely to be "good candy." If we are talking Dum Dum pops, Smarties, bubble gum, or anything like unto it--you can rest assured that it's probably not "good candy." That's the kind of candy that gets left over in the bowl after all of the good candy gets eaten.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
"Commander in Chief"? Not Anymore
I have been trying hard for the last month or so to get into ABC's latest hit "Commander In Chief." I really have. Each week I've tuned in waiting for Geena Davis to work some magic, and Donald Sutherland to play a devlish, Republican Speaker of the House. And with it all, I've wanted to experience the same kind of immersion and satisfaction I've gotten with "The West Wing."
It hasn't happened, and I've stopped waiting.
The main problem with the show isn't that Geena Davis is president, while still the mother of three kids still in school, whose loving husband used to be her chief of staff. Nor is it the far fetched pilot episode whereby she improbably defies both the dying President and his Party, ascending to the Presidency as an Independent when the President dies. It's also not the devilish Donald Sutherland, who in my mind is the best, and perhaps only, reason to watch the show.
No, the problem is the writing. The show seems a bit too concerned about being cute and about wrapping up all difficulties within the hour (excepting for the larger theme of getting everyone to Respect Geena and take her seriously). It also seems terribly concerned with making Geena Davis come off, not only as the perfect president, but also the perfect mother and spouse. At the same time the dialogue simply lacks credibility.
Whereas with the West Wing, for which it takes little to no effort to accept the characters, the conflicts, and the characters' reactions to the conflicts, as "authentic", with "Commander In Chief" I constantly find myself thinking "Yeah, Right" or "That's convenient" and "Absolutely no way." It shouldn't actually even be called "Commander In Chief," it should be called "The West Wing Made Cute" or "Disney's The West Wing."
So tonight I turned to ABC at 9pm to give the show one last chance, but couldn't even make it beyond the opening credits. As the show opened, the First Gentleman was seeing his three children off to school, one in her Halloween costume, as they pulled away in a limousine. Geena came running up behind, having just missed seeing them off. She then joked with the First Gentleman about blowing off an intelligence briefing to accompany her husband to the World Series and they exchanged loving jests. It was cute. It was cuddly. It was Disney. When the show then cut to Geena in the intelligence briefing as the all wise Independent, I knew that was the end. I just couldn't believe the show, and I no longer wanted to.
Anyway, I appear to be in the minority. Commander in Chief is the #1 show on Tuesdays. The West Wing, moved to Sunday (to Monday with the magic of DVR), has been slumping--and it seems like the show is trying to juggle too many stories at once. My only explanation for "Commander In Chief's" success is that people have been hoping for the same turnaround I have. Either that or they just happen to like a Disney-fied Presidency.
It hasn't happened, and I've stopped waiting.
The main problem with the show isn't that Geena Davis is president, while still the mother of three kids still in school, whose loving husband used to be her chief of staff. Nor is it the far fetched pilot episode whereby she improbably defies both the dying President and his Party, ascending to the Presidency as an Independent when the President dies. It's also not the devilish Donald Sutherland, who in my mind is the best, and perhaps only, reason to watch the show.
No, the problem is the writing. The show seems a bit too concerned about being cute and about wrapping up all difficulties within the hour (excepting for the larger theme of getting everyone to Respect Geena and take her seriously). It also seems terribly concerned with making Geena Davis come off, not only as the perfect president, but also the perfect mother and spouse. At the same time the dialogue simply lacks credibility.
Whereas with the West Wing, for which it takes little to no effort to accept the characters, the conflicts, and the characters' reactions to the conflicts, as "authentic", with "Commander In Chief" I constantly find myself thinking "Yeah, Right" or "That's convenient" and "Absolutely no way." It shouldn't actually even be called "Commander In Chief," it should be called "The West Wing Made Cute" or "Disney's The West Wing."
So tonight I turned to ABC at 9pm to give the show one last chance, but couldn't even make it beyond the opening credits. As the show opened, the First Gentleman was seeing his three children off to school, one in her Halloween costume, as they pulled away in a limousine. Geena came running up behind, having just missed seeing them off. She then joked with the First Gentleman about blowing off an intelligence briefing to accompany her husband to the World Series and they exchanged loving jests. It was cute. It was cuddly. It was Disney. When the show then cut to Geena in the intelligence briefing as the all wise Independent, I knew that was the end. I just couldn't believe the show, and I no longer wanted to.
Anyway, I appear to be in the minority. Commander in Chief is the #1 show on Tuesdays. The West Wing, moved to Sunday (to Monday with the magic of DVR), has been slumping--and it seems like the show is trying to juggle too many stories at once. My only explanation for "Commander In Chief's" success is that people have been hoping for the same turnaround I have. Either that or they just happen to like a Disney-fied Presidency.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
You May Kiss the Royal Hand
As I think of it, the title of this post may be a bit misleading: my Dr. Mario prowess doesn't exactly make me royalty, just the champion of the world.
Those who know me never seem startled enough when they learn that they are in the midst of the greatest Dr. Mario player in the world. Rather, my accolades usually meet with scorn and derision (perhaps the astute among you are noticing a pattern of disrespect). I am, however, the Dr. Mario world champion--and I defy anyone to prove me wrong in head to head competition.
Now, to win a Dr. Mario match one needs to win 3 games. Each game consists of stacking pills of various colors on viruses of matching colors in rows or columns of four. If you get two or more rows or columns at a time, then the game dumps garbage (extra virus pieces) onto the opponents screen, the amount of garbage increasing with the size of the combo. The first player to eliminate all of his/her viruses, or the last player to get "stacked up" (fill the screen so the pills have no where to go) wins the game.
There isn't much to my history with the game. In the months before my mission I used to go to a friend's house to play with her and her family. My first evening with the game (the original Nintendo version) her family smoked me. In her mother's attempt to console me afterward she said "That's ok, Aaron. Some people just aren't spacially gifted." Those words rang in my ears when I drove home that night, and were with me the rest of the week. I returned to their home the next weekend determined, and anxious to play the game. Apparently in less than a week I'd developed a spacial gift, because no one could keep up.
Fast forward to my senior year of college. Dr. Mario 64 came out for the Nintendo 64, and it quickly became popular 4 player fare for Michelle and I and our friends. Friends would always boast either of themselves or of someone they knew as being without equal. None of these claims, though, ever survived a visit to the Clark home at 100 Wymount Terrace.
The summer before law school started was when it all came together. A friend of ours boasted of his father, a doctor laying low at the Texas Tech med school in Lubbock, TX whose only desire after coming home from work was to play Dr. Mario. He played every night, and to hear tell he was the best there was.
Fortunately, we were headed to Lubbock that summer for our friend's wedding, so I challenged the good doctor for a shot at the Championship of the World at the end of July. He seemed delighted and told me "Bring it on."
So, I spent the summer practicing all the different modes into the late hours of the night, spurred by the prospects of facing a near perfect player. A few times I get calls from my friend as he watched his father put up record numbers on his own machine. My task often felt hopelessly daunting, but I played on.
When the time finally came to play Dr. Dalley, there were no crowds of onlookers (any who would've watched were either napping or quite recently married). Before I'd hardly had time to catch my breath, Dr. Dalley was up on me 2-0. One more game and he'd win the match. It was at this point that he tried hard to hold back a grin. He lost control for a moment and let some boastful remark slip, telling me "I promised my son I wouldn't gloat." He then caught himself in a laugh that conveyed complete confidence and control.
He may just as well have said "It's ok Aaron. Some people just aren't spacially gifted."
I snuck by with the third game, and caught him off guard a little bit. I blew him away in the fourth game, and he was reeling. "My scouting report was wrong," he said. Indeed, his son had told him that my aim was only speed--but I'd instead found that the more effective approach is to crisply create opportunities for combinations, and multiple combinations, with a resultant firestorm of garbage raining over the screen of my opponent.
You can already guess how the fifth game went. At the end of it, Dr. Dalley buried his face in his hands and I sat back in my chair contented as the new Dr. Mario World Champion. He asked for a rematch, which I gave him, though the results were the same.
To this day I've retained the Title (notice the capitalization). In the years that have followed, despite numerous challengers, I've never lost a head to head matchup. Instead, most of the time I have to bump myself up 6 or 7 levels (giving me between 20 and 3o more viruses to vanquish than my opponent) just to give him or her a chance.
So, if you happen to read this and see me anytime in the near future, I will not be embarrased, nor should you be, if you feel in the inclination to kneel at my feet and beg me to sign your copy of Dr. Mario 64. Hey, that's what champions are for. If other people point and laugh while you kneel, just tell them who I am and what I've accomplished. They'll probably want to join you.
If you think you may have what it takes to take a shot at the best, bring it on. I'm not going anywhere--and neither is my title.
Those who know me never seem startled enough when they learn that they are in the midst of the greatest Dr. Mario player in the world. Rather, my accolades usually meet with scorn and derision (perhaps the astute among you are noticing a pattern of disrespect). I am, however, the Dr. Mario world champion--and I defy anyone to prove me wrong in head to head competition.
Now, to win a Dr. Mario match one needs to win 3 games. Each game consists of stacking pills of various colors on viruses of matching colors in rows or columns of four. If you get two or more rows or columns at a time, then the game dumps garbage (extra virus pieces) onto the opponents screen, the amount of garbage increasing with the size of the combo. The first player to eliminate all of his/her viruses, or the last player to get "stacked up" (fill the screen so the pills have no where to go) wins the game.
There isn't much to my history with the game. In the months before my mission I used to go to a friend's house to play with her and her family. My first evening with the game (the original Nintendo version) her family smoked me. In her mother's attempt to console me afterward she said "That's ok, Aaron. Some people just aren't spacially gifted." Those words rang in my ears when I drove home that night, and were with me the rest of the week. I returned to their home the next weekend determined, and anxious to play the game. Apparently in less than a week I'd developed a spacial gift, because no one could keep up.
Fast forward to my senior year of college. Dr. Mario 64 came out for the Nintendo 64, and it quickly became popular 4 player fare for Michelle and I and our friends. Friends would always boast either of themselves or of someone they knew as being without equal. None of these claims, though, ever survived a visit to the Clark home at 100 Wymount Terrace.
The summer before law school started was when it all came together. A friend of ours boasted of his father, a doctor laying low at the Texas Tech med school in Lubbock, TX whose only desire after coming home from work was to play Dr. Mario. He played every night, and to hear tell he was the best there was.
Fortunately, we were headed to Lubbock that summer for our friend's wedding, so I challenged the good doctor for a shot at the Championship of the World at the end of July. He seemed delighted and told me "Bring it on."
So, I spent the summer practicing all the different modes into the late hours of the night, spurred by the prospects of facing a near perfect player. A few times I get calls from my friend as he watched his father put up record numbers on his own machine. My task often felt hopelessly daunting, but I played on.
When the time finally came to play Dr. Dalley, there were no crowds of onlookers (any who would've watched were either napping or quite recently married). Before I'd hardly had time to catch my breath, Dr. Dalley was up on me 2-0. One more game and he'd win the match. It was at this point that he tried hard to hold back a grin. He lost control for a moment and let some boastful remark slip, telling me "I promised my son I wouldn't gloat." He then caught himself in a laugh that conveyed complete confidence and control.
He may just as well have said "It's ok Aaron. Some people just aren't spacially gifted."
I snuck by with the third game, and caught him off guard a little bit. I blew him away in the fourth game, and he was reeling. "My scouting report was wrong," he said. Indeed, his son had told him that my aim was only speed--but I'd instead found that the more effective approach is to crisply create opportunities for combinations, and multiple combinations, with a resultant firestorm of garbage raining over the screen of my opponent.
You can already guess how the fifth game went. At the end of it, Dr. Dalley buried his face in his hands and I sat back in my chair contented as the new Dr. Mario World Champion. He asked for a rematch, which I gave him, though the results were the same.
To this day I've retained the Title (notice the capitalization). In the years that have followed, despite numerous challengers, I've never lost a head to head matchup. Instead, most of the time I have to bump myself up 6 or 7 levels (giving me between 20 and 3o more viruses to vanquish than my opponent) just to give him or her a chance.
So, if you happen to read this and see me anytime in the near future, I will not be embarrased, nor should you be, if you feel in the inclination to kneel at my feet and beg me to sign your copy of Dr. Mario 64. Hey, that's what champions are for. If other people point and laugh while you kneel, just tell them who I am and what I've accomplished. They'll probably want to join you.
If you think you may have what it takes to take a shot at the best, bring it on. I'm not going anywhere--and neither is my title.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
A Cinderella Story
One of Michelle's birthday gifts was the latest Disney DVD offering: Cinderella.
Jared helped me pick it out, and as we took it to the checkout counter, he refused to call Prince Charming anything other than "Woody" or "Buzz" (an homage to Toy Story). He did the same Monday morning when Michelle found the gift in her birthday treasure hunt. So I could tell he at least liked the cover of the movie.
Tonight we let him stay up a little late to watch it, and I've never seen the boy so intent on a movie. Actually it'd be more accurate to say that I've never seen him more intent on a particular character. Every few seconds he called out "Cinderella!" If she wasn't on screen or in a scene, he'd put his hands palm face up and repeat "Cinderella?" This went on for the entire movie.
In the final scene, as Cinderella is pulling away in the carriage with Prince Charming, Jared was in tears. He kept point to the carriage, mostly worried, almost crying "Cinderella?" He was in tears when the movie ended. He just wasn't quite ready to part with her. It was mostly cute, and maybe a little alarming. Apparently he too was enchanted with her beauty.
Amid his tears we asked him "Do you want to marry Cinderella?" With a nod he replied "Lep." (Yep).
Addendum: The next morning his first words when I went to get him out of bed were "Cinderella?" "Charming?"
Jared helped me pick it out, and as we took it to the checkout counter, he refused to call Prince Charming anything other than "Woody" or "Buzz" (an homage to Toy Story). He did the same Monday morning when Michelle found the gift in her birthday treasure hunt. So I could tell he at least liked the cover of the movie.
Tonight we let him stay up a little late to watch it, and I've never seen the boy so intent on a movie. Actually it'd be more accurate to say that I've never seen him more intent on a particular character. Every few seconds he called out "Cinderella!" If she wasn't on screen or in a scene, he'd put his hands palm face up and repeat "Cinderella?" This went on for the entire movie.
In the final scene, as Cinderella is pulling away in the carriage with Prince Charming, Jared was in tears. He kept point to the carriage, mostly worried, almost crying "Cinderella?" He was in tears when the movie ended. He just wasn't quite ready to part with her. It was mostly cute, and maybe a little alarming. Apparently he too was enchanted with her beauty.
Amid his tears we asked him "Do you want to marry Cinderella?" With a nod he replied "Lep." (Yep).
Addendum: The next morning his first words when I went to get him out of bed were "Cinderella?" "Charming?"
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
The Walrus Mocks, But It Shall Morn
About 6 weeks ago now we went with some friends down to Seaworld. One of them happened to be quite fond of Walrus--maybe even a little too fond (He was in a Walrus club in high school). We got along well amid the stop and go traffic on our way to San Diego, at least until some people started questioning my ability to "take" a Walrus with my bare hands if I had to ("some" meaning everyone in the car--though if Jared could've contributed I'm sure he would've been with me).
The situation merits a brief explanation.
I can explain to you neither the origins of nor the reasons for a consistent train of thought throughout my life that has kept me bent on protecting myself against nature. It's just been there. When I was a kid I used to wonder how I might protect myself if stranded in the ocean facing a shark, a bear in the wilderness, or a lion on the Savannah. Obviously such encounters would be a bit disconcerting--perhaps that's why I bent my thoughts on them.
Maybe other people don't think about things--I do (and I'm the better for it)*. Maybe in such situations other people would just give themselves up for lost--I wouldn't, and I'd have a plan**.
So of course on the way to SeaWorld, with our friend in the back seat gushing about Walri (his plural term for the Walrus), the most natural end of the conversation was that I could take a Walrus if I had to. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised that my survival instincts were met with contempt and derision, with even my wife joining in.
I felt alone. I felt bitter. I felt like quoting Calvin Coolidge: "Doubters do not achieve; skeptics do not contribute; cynics do not create." Yeah, that about summed up everyone in car--except Jared and me.
So we went to Seaworld, saw two Walrus, and made our way home. All the while my mind was working on the Walrus. All the while they mocked me.
But here's my plan:
Of course, it'd be a bit more difficult if we were facing off in the water, though I'm pretty sure even in the water I'd be able to get him to use his tusks against himself. If we're on land, it's not much of a contest--assuming that I at least get to wear shoes. If I don't have shoes on, then what on earth am I doing in Walrus land?
You see, the whole key to battling a Walrus is not to waste time delivering blows to the body. The blubber is just too thick. What'd I'd do instead is get on top of the Walrus near the head and use my arms to put it in a "Full Nelson," (one of the little known secrets to Walrus fighting is that when you control the head, you control the whole body). Once we get to this point, what happens next will mostly depend on how merciful I'm feeling and how sincere the Walrus is in apologizing for ever have attacked me in the first place. One thing is clear, though, he's not getting out of that Full Nelson until he does.
It's really rather simple when you think about it.
In the end, though, the question isn't so much the method or the technique. Where the great question really lies is whether you stand with the rest who mock, with the walrus essentially, or with me. If you're not with me, then lets hope the Walrus doesn't turn on you and find you unpreprared.
*I did have a missionary companion once who shared my vision for survival. It made the afternoons of tracting out the trailer parks in Olivehurst, CA that much more enjoyable.
**Yeah, yeah, you want to know details. Probably so you can mock them. I'm not about to cast my pearls before swine. Let's just say if I'm facing a bear or a mountain lion and I have a baseball bat--then that'd be too easy. What concerns me is those moments when I'm facing a lion or a shark and I don't have a bat. At least for the lion, though, I should be able to get at least one swift kick to the head if it's running at me head on. You see, as I'm kicking the lion in the head as hard as I can I'd also be trying to kick it to the side, so as to keep it at bay. I figure that'd give me a chance for at least one more good swift kick to the head. I just ask you--if you're a lion, would you want to face me and two swift kicks to the head? Yeah, I don't blame you.
The situation merits a brief explanation.
I can explain to you neither the origins of nor the reasons for a consistent train of thought throughout my life that has kept me bent on protecting myself against nature. It's just been there. When I was a kid I used to wonder how I might protect myself if stranded in the ocean facing a shark, a bear in the wilderness, or a lion on the Savannah. Obviously such encounters would be a bit disconcerting--perhaps that's why I bent my thoughts on them.
Maybe other people don't think about things--I do (and I'm the better for it)*. Maybe in such situations other people would just give themselves up for lost--I wouldn't, and I'd have a plan**.
So of course on the way to SeaWorld, with our friend in the back seat gushing about Walri (his plural term for the Walrus), the most natural end of the conversation was that I could take a Walrus if I had to. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised that my survival instincts were met with contempt and derision, with even my wife joining in.
I felt alone. I felt bitter. I felt like quoting Calvin Coolidge: "Doubters do not achieve; skeptics do not contribute; cynics do not create." Yeah, that about summed up everyone in car--except Jared and me.
So we went to Seaworld, saw two Walrus, and made our way home. All the while my mind was working on the Walrus. All the while they mocked me.
But here's my plan:
Of course, it'd be a bit more difficult if we were facing off in the water, though I'm pretty sure even in the water I'd be able to get him to use his tusks against himself. If we're on land, it's not much of a contest--assuming that I at least get to wear shoes. If I don't have shoes on, then what on earth am I doing in Walrus land?
You see, the whole key to battling a Walrus is not to waste time delivering blows to the body. The blubber is just too thick. What'd I'd do instead is get on top of the Walrus near the head and use my arms to put it in a "Full Nelson," (one of the little known secrets to Walrus fighting is that when you control the head, you control the whole body). Once we get to this point, what happens next will mostly depend on how merciful I'm feeling and how sincere the Walrus is in apologizing for ever have attacked me in the first place. One thing is clear, though, he's not getting out of that Full Nelson until he does.
It's really rather simple when you think about it.
In the end, though, the question isn't so much the method or the technique. Where the great question really lies is whether you stand with the rest who mock, with the walrus essentially, or with me. If you're not with me, then lets hope the Walrus doesn't turn on you and find you unpreprared.
*I did have a missionary companion once who shared my vision for survival. It made the afternoons of tracting out the trailer parks in Olivehurst, CA that much more enjoyable.
**Yeah, yeah, you want to know details. Probably so you can mock them. I'm not about to cast my pearls before swine. Let's just say if I'm facing a bear or a mountain lion and I have a baseball bat--then that'd be too easy. What concerns me is those moments when I'm facing a lion or a shark and I don't have a bat. At least for the lion, though, I should be able to get at least one swift kick to the head if it's running at me head on. You see, as I'm kicking the lion in the head as hard as I can I'd also be trying to kick it to the side, so as to keep it at bay. I figure that'd give me a chance for at least one more good swift kick to the head. I just ask you--if you're a lion, would you want to face me and two swift kicks to the head? Yeah, I don't blame you.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Birthday Cake Wishes for Michelle
Tomorrow will mark a year from the day that I ruined Michelle's birthday.
As others will tell it, last year in Cambridge we had some friends over for Michelle's birthday to share in cheesecake and ice cream, and even play a board game or two. The cheesecake was fine, the ice cream was good, but when it came to games I wasn't terribly interested in playing what the birthday girl wanted to play (Cranium). Apparently I was crotchety enough that some of our friends almost felt to reprimand me, and it was enough to ruin an otherwise pleasant evening.
I've spent the year repenting of my misdeeds, and hope to make tomorrow doubly pleasant for Michelle, even if (gulp) that means playing Cranium. It would help if we still had the company of our Cambridge friends, though now we are in Irvine and they are in other parts of the world. It might take awhile for us to not miss them in such moments, if that ever happens. I keep trying to convince Michelle that if the ice cream and cake are good enough*, the company doesn't matter, but she isn't convinced. I suppose I have trouble believing that too.
So Happy Birthday Michelle. May your 26th year not be your last, and hopefully bring you at least half as much of the happiness you deserve. If my presence in your life detracts from that in anyway, well, then you knew what I was when you picked me up.
*I actually convinced Michelle to go with the "All American Chocolate Cake" this year from Costco, and picked one up Friday evening. At $14.99, the cake is a monster of chocolate cake and chocolate butter cream frosting. As luck would have it, I brought it home only to find that Michelle had not consented to the beast that lay before her, but instead imagined it as one of the chocolate bundt cakes they sell (at half the price no less). She couldn't hide her disappointment. (She's open about not caring much for the traditional heavily frosted cakes). For a moment I shared her disappointment, then I seized the opportunity to declare the cake my own (which I have since regretted with each subsequent piece eaten this weekend) and left it to her to decide what she wants to share with everyone Monday evening.
As others will tell it, last year in Cambridge we had some friends over for Michelle's birthday to share in cheesecake and ice cream, and even play a board game or two. The cheesecake was fine, the ice cream was good, but when it came to games I wasn't terribly interested in playing what the birthday girl wanted to play (Cranium). Apparently I was crotchety enough that some of our friends almost felt to reprimand me, and it was enough to ruin an otherwise pleasant evening.
I've spent the year repenting of my misdeeds, and hope to make tomorrow doubly pleasant for Michelle, even if (gulp) that means playing Cranium. It would help if we still had the company of our Cambridge friends, though now we are in Irvine and they are in other parts of the world. It might take awhile for us to not miss them in such moments, if that ever happens. I keep trying to convince Michelle that if the ice cream and cake are good enough*, the company doesn't matter, but she isn't convinced. I suppose I have trouble believing that too.
So Happy Birthday Michelle. May your 26th year not be your last, and hopefully bring you at least half as much of the happiness you deserve. If my presence in your life detracts from that in anyway, well, then you knew what I was when you picked me up.
*I actually convinced Michelle to go with the "All American Chocolate Cake" this year from Costco, and picked one up Friday evening. At $14.99, the cake is a monster of chocolate cake and chocolate butter cream frosting. As luck would have it, I brought it home only to find that Michelle had not consented to the beast that lay before her, but instead imagined it as one of the chocolate bundt cakes they sell (at half the price no less). She couldn't hide her disappointment. (She's open about not caring much for the traditional heavily frosted cakes). For a moment I shared her disappointment, then I seized the opportunity to declare the cake my own (which I have since regretted with each subsequent piece eaten this weekend) and left it to her to decide what she wants to share with everyone Monday evening.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Top 21 Donut/Pastry Experiences Part II
If you missed my previous post explaining how I’m ranking Top 21 All Time Donut/Pastry Experiences, I suggest reading the previous post before moving onto this one. Below I have ranked the Top 11 of such experiences. If you are reading this post, perhaps I’ll take the smallest amount of pleasure in the thought that my rankings have at least amused you.
11. Munchkins, the “True” Dunkin Donuts, Porter Square (2004-2005): I don’t remember what reasons finally lead me to visit the Dunkin’ Donuts one T-stop up the Redline from our Harvard Square apartment. Imagine my delight, though, especially given the experiences mentioned in #20, to find this store in the evening, freshly stocked (freshly stocked in the evening!) with donuts. This particular store had 3 or 4 more varieties of Munchkins than the Harvard Square Dunkin’ Donuts (including the rare Butternut Munchkin). What added to my joy was that a dozen of these donuts or a box of 50 Munchkins was $1.00 cheaper than at the Harvard Square store. Fresher Donuts, Better Selection, Lots Cheaper, and a Credit Card Machine that never failed me. I thought the store was heaven sent, and have ever since called it the “True” Dunkin’ Donuts. What added to my joy was that our friends started calling it by the same name, if only to humor.
10. Holland Farms Jelly Donut (Late 90s and Early 2000s): This is Holland Farms’ second appearance on the list, and the attention is not unwarranted. This little bakery with the cows on the sign makes what are quite simply the finest jelly donuts you can ever hope to sample. Now understand, I had never previously even liked jelly donuts. I considered them a waste of time, money, flour, and sugar (from most bakeries, they still are). These jelly donuts, though, single handedly made me a believer. With a powdered sugar covered surface, and slightly overstuffed black raspberry filling, to sample one is to find unsatisfying almost any donut that comes after, and surely any jelly donut. Search the whole Earth and you will not anywhere find its equal. They are almost the White Witches’ Turkish Delight* , though they don’t quite make one want to betray his brothers and sisters to evil incarnate just to have another. They are, after all, still just jelly donuts.
* see The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe
9. Tim Horton’s Donut Holes, Temple Trips to Toronto, Trips Through Ohio and to Maine (Early 90s-2004): I remember attending the temple dedication for the Toronto, Canada temple. I remember, too, my parents making the occasional 12-14 hour round trip to attend a temple session. We never minded my parents making trip, mostly because they always brought back donut holes from Tim Horton’s. It may have had something to do with the deprived childhood I lead, but no donut holes ever tasted as good as these. I won’t dare attribute it to anything to do with the temple, nor need I even suggest it. On one of our drives across country we found a Tim Horton’s in Ohio. Given my memories, I avoided the standard donuts and went straight for the donut holes. We did the same on a trip last fall to Maine, when we stumbled upon a Tim Horton’s in Portland. They tasted as good then as they did back in the 90s. It might have something to do with their deceptively straight forward approach to donut holes, or placing just the right amount of glaze on the surface (and letting it crust over just enough). I suspect, though, that Tim Horton’s Donut Holes rank #8 on my list because I’ve never had too many at one time: Basically I’ve never made myself sick from them and had one of those sorrowful moments afterward where I wished I hadn’t eaten so many. The sad truth is that this is one of only a handful of pastries on this list I can say that about.
8. Cinnabon Cinnamon Rolls, Airport, Orem, & Michelle’s Knock Offs (Early 2000s): Michelle introduced me to Cinnabon Cinnamon rolls after we were married and waiting for a flight in the Salt Lake Airport. I’d previously given them no attention since they were airport food and, regardless of how good it might taste, airport food is always greatly overpriced. She spoke favorably of them, though, and it didn’t take much convincing to get me to share one. When we started in on it, I was not prepared for this beast of a cinnamon roll whose main selling point seems to be its sheer excess: huge rolls, tons of sugar, and tons of icing (with the option to buy an additional small tub of icing). It was Enormous, and it was Awesome (it might have been less awesome if someone had shown me the calories in each bite). It didn’t take long to start a tradition to get one every time we flew—perhaps even sometimes getting one each. They were worth the hefty price if we had the money. I became slightly less enthused, however, after an evening of pure madness: For a treat night one weekend at BYU, I drove to a nearby mall in Orem and bought a 6 pack of these cinnamon rolls with a few extra tubs of icing. Even with my enthusiasm, I couldn’t get through more than one of those rolls, which meant leaving the rest in the freezer for a time (something almost unheard of in the Clark home). Apparently even I had my limits. We’ve never bought them since.
They did enjoy a renaissance, though, when Michelle found a knock off recipe for them online. Michelle’s may have even tasted better because: 1. we had more control on the toppings and amount of frosting; and 2. we made them at a fraction of the cost.
7. Family Home Evening Activity at Smith’s (Provo 2000): For the first few months of our marriage, we lived in Provo without a car. That thought seems scarcely imaginable now, but at the time it was a novel way to make ends meet. I think we were almost proud of it. At any rate, for one of our earliest home evenings, our activity was to walk to a nearby Smith’s Grocery Store and get a treat. While in the store, an announcement came abruptly over the store’s PA system that changed all plans. The woman who spoke noted that for the next 15 minutes the donuts in the bakery case were all on sale--$2.00 for whatever you could fit in a box. With cat like reflexes I raced over to the bakery and with Michelle went to work stuffing as many donuts into one of those boxes as we could. (It’s a good thing I raced over there, too, because another woman soon came to pick over what donuts were left). In the end we stuffed 22 donuts in a box meant to barely fit 12. I even had to try and sneak past the checker at the register the fact that the box wouldn’t close without a bit of help. I think I sensed a snicker from her.
I’m sure the donuts weren’t terribly tasty, but at that price it almost didn’t matter what they tasted like. We talked all the way home and for months after about how lucky we were to have been in the store at that moment, ascribing our good fortune to our faithfulness in holding family home evening.
6. Mag’s Cinnamon Crumb Donuts, Mag’s Bakery (Irvine 2004-Present): I hold a special place in my heart for little donut shops, and can hardly pass one by without feeling some urge to stop in and sample their fare. Last summer, I finally stopped at a bakery near the home we were staying at in Irvine. There, at Mag’s Donut Bakery, I brought home samples of several different donuts, one of which is their Cinnamon Crumb Donut. It’s a cake donut, with cinnamon crumbs coating the outside. The donut is so plain in its ambition, and yet the result is satisfying perfection. As far as cake donuts are concerned, I have never tasted its equal. Mag’s earns points for offering a $1.00 discount for buying a dozen donuts, and for the quaint phrase on its box “Handcrafted to Perfection.” (The notion that they “hand craft” their donuts brings chuckles, but also shows the kind of dedication I expect from successful mom and pop donut shops).
What adds to the humor with these donuts is that the two friends that I’ve introduced these donuts to have not shared my passion. In fact, they haven’t even seemed to like them! (Both hardly even tried them). That alone may have helped propel these donuts to #6, because that left more for me.
5. Mom’s Chocolate Cinnamon Rolls (Early 90’s and Once After My Mission):
These were the days never to be forgotten: when Mom had the time and inclination to work her culinary magic toward the creation of one of the finest treats of my teenage years: chocolate cinnamon rolls. They were exactly what they sound like, cinnamon rolls with chocolate dough and standard powdered sugar icing (best when just crusted over).
What adds to their value and propels them to the top 5 is their scarcity. I may have enjoyed them 3 or 4 times in my childhood, and then once again on special request after my mission. They have never been seen since, partly because Mom’s time for such baking shrank as she studied for and eventually became a registered nurse. Additionally, though, they don’t quite fit into the South Beach Diet.
4. Chocolate Milk & Donut Runs (Early 90s): One of these runs was described specifically in #17. On the whole, though, these late night chocolate milk and donut runs that accompanied weekend sleepovers made for some of the best memories of the early years of my life. They started in Herkimer one evening at a friend’s house when we decided to walk a few blocks to a convenience store for a late night treat. Some Hershey’s Chocolate Milk and donuts were what seemed most appealing. Most times I think we simply bought the Hostess Donettes that come pre-packaged and last for years on a convenient store shelf (the chocolate coated variety of these are seriously underrated).
Those treats, the late night company, and the video games we played were all I could hope for in the weekends that accompanied those formative teenage years. Some of my nightly excursions even now for ice cream or something else seem merely to be attempts to recapture some of the innocence, wholesome pleasure, and comfort of those late night donut runs of my youth.
3. 4 Dozen Krispy Kremes in Iowa (2001): In August of 2001 my family had sold their home in Upstate New York and were on their way cross country to meet us in Utah, making their new home in Layton. Michelle and I were still at BYU, with Michelle set to graduate in a few days. One fateful afternoon, we found a message left by Mom on our answering machine alerting us to the fact that while passing through Iowa, the van my father was driving had been hit head on by a pick up truck crossing the median. Dad was in surgery and in critical condition. The stresses and worries of that time can’t be adequately treated here, but within a day or two it was decided that I’d fly out to Iowa to help my mother finish the drive to Utah, while Dad stayed beyond in the hospital recovering (both of his femur bones had been broken by the steering wheel). I had hoped to lighten the load and provide what little relief my presence and resources could muster.
I stuck with what I knew. Borrowing my Elder’s Quorum President’s Krispy Kreme Card, I flew to Iowa. On the day we were to resume the journey, we visited Dad, gave blessings to the Dad, Mom, and the children, and then made our way to Krispy Kreme, where I bought an unprecedented 4 dozen donuts to see us through the journey (the card given me provided a free dozen glazed for every dozen purchased). We left 1 dozen donuts with the Nyes, the family that had graciously hosted my family for nearly a week, and then took the rest with us on the road. If nothing else, the sheer number of donuts gave my siblings something to talk about other than the accident. I dare not say the donuts themselves provided much healing, but at least they provided for some light moments amid the somberness of a very difficult time.
2. Hemstrought’s Half Moons, Maple & Chocolate Fingers (Late 80s, 90s): Hemstrought’s bakery was a small store next to a grocery store less than a mile from our home. When we were able to collect and return enough soda and beer cans from the nearby softball and Little League fields (each offering a 5 cent return at any grocery store) we would sometimes venture to spend our earnings on Hemstrought’s donuts. I remember my brother Nathan’s eyes growing especially large when they attendant would place those enormous chocolate or maple bar donuts in a box for us (we always got those since they were the biggest and seemed to give us the most for our money). For most of my younger years, Hemstrought’s was the best we could ever hope for from the donut world, and those donuts were all we ever wanted. Nothing gave Nathan or me greater delight than to bring home a box of those donuts to share only between ourselves.
I don’t remember when exactly I was turned to the Hemstrought’s Half Moons (other parts of the world seem to call them Black & White Cookies) but these cake-like cookies with half chocolate, half vanilla frosting were then and are still the “end all be all” of delectable bakery treats. Holland Farms also makes half moons, but my memory is most vivid of those that came from Hemstroughts. If you were to line up all the pastries I’ve described (or will describe) and then ask me to select just one, I would not hesitate to reach for the Hemstrought’s half moon, or the ones Michelle now makes utilizing the Hemstrought’s recipe found somewhere on the internet.
1. Holland Farm’s Chocolate and Maple Bars Donuts (May 13, 1995-Early 2000s): My affinity for Holland Farms donuts, and my reason for placing their Chocolate and Maple Bars #1, can be traced to the days after my youngest brother Peter was born. Peter was born only a day before I was to go to the first of two junior proms. That morning Dad took some of the kids to the hospital in Utica to see Mom and my new little brother. On the way, though, he stopped at Holland Farms to buy some orange juice and donuts. Among the donuts I remember were the Chocolate Bars, with a lighter chocolate icing that almost made them look like maple bars.
We drank and ate freely as we made our way to the hospital in eager anticipation, and then were a little awe struck to look at and hold the newest addition to our family, even with his chaffing skin (he came a bit late). That was a happy morning, perhaps made fonder because time has darkened anything other than the joys. These donuts rank an easy #1, in part because they were above average donuts, but also because I cannot help but think of that morning without feeling the urge to smile broadly and almost laugh at the delightful precursor a quick stop for donuts and orange juice made for meeting Peter for the first time. If all mornings could be as that one was for me, I would think myself in Heaven.
To add to that, years later after my mission I took great pleasure in taking my younger brothers Bryan and Peter on secret early Saturday morning donut runs for the family, making the 30 mile round trip to Holland Farms to pick up a box or two of these donuts and orange juice. We did this on a number of occasions, each time less of a surprise than the last. Just ask Bryan and Peter, though, whether they remember those trips, and I’m almost willing to bet they remember the donuts bought and sampled better than I do.
Honorable Mention:
One Halloween in Ilion (mid 90s)
Tasty’s Spudnuts on Fantasy League Draft Day (2005)
Unexpected Breakfast of Glazed Donuts at My High School Graduation
11. Munchkins, the “True” Dunkin Donuts, Porter Square (2004-2005): I don’t remember what reasons finally lead me to visit the Dunkin’ Donuts one T-stop up the Redline from our Harvard Square apartment. Imagine my delight, though, especially given the experiences mentioned in #20, to find this store in the evening, freshly stocked (freshly stocked in the evening!) with donuts. This particular store had 3 or 4 more varieties of Munchkins than the Harvard Square Dunkin’ Donuts (including the rare Butternut Munchkin). What added to my joy was that a dozen of these donuts or a box of 50 Munchkins was $1.00 cheaper than at the Harvard Square store. Fresher Donuts, Better Selection, Lots Cheaper, and a Credit Card Machine that never failed me. I thought the store was heaven sent, and have ever since called it the “True” Dunkin’ Donuts. What added to my joy was that our friends started calling it by the same name, if only to humor.
10. Holland Farms Jelly Donut (Late 90s and Early 2000s): This is Holland Farms’ second appearance on the list, and the attention is not unwarranted. This little bakery with the cows on the sign makes what are quite simply the finest jelly donuts you can ever hope to sample. Now understand, I had never previously even liked jelly donuts. I considered them a waste of time, money, flour, and sugar (from most bakeries, they still are). These jelly donuts, though, single handedly made me a believer. With a powdered sugar covered surface, and slightly overstuffed black raspberry filling, to sample one is to find unsatisfying almost any donut that comes after, and surely any jelly donut. Search the whole Earth and you will not anywhere find its equal. They are almost the White Witches’ Turkish Delight* , though they don’t quite make one want to betray his brothers and sisters to evil incarnate just to have another. They are, after all, still just jelly donuts.
* see The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe
9. Tim Horton’s Donut Holes, Temple Trips to Toronto, Trips Through Ohio and to Maine (Early 90s-2004): I remember attending the temple dedication for the Toronto, Canada temple. I remember, too, my parents making the occasional 12-14 hour round trip to attend a temple session. We never minded my parents making trip, mostly because they always brought back donut holes from Tim Horton’s. It may have had something to do with the deprived childhood I lead, but no donut holes ever tasted as good as these. I won’t dare attribute it to anything to do with the temple, nor need I even suggest it. On one of our drives across country we found a Tim Horton’s in Ohio. Given my memories, I avoided the standard donuts and went straight for the donut holes. We did the same on a trip last fall to Maine, when we stumbled upon a Tim Horton’s in Portland. They tasted as good then as they did back in the 90s. It might have something to do with their deceptively straight forward approach to donut holes, or placing just the right amount of glaze on the surface (and letting it crust over just enough). I suspect, though, that Tim Horton’s Donut Holes rank #8 on my list because I’ve never had too many at one time: Basically I’ve never made myself sick from them and had one of those sorrowful moments afterward where I wished I hadn’t eaten so many. The sad truth is that this is one of only a handful of pastries on this list I can say that about.
8. Cinnabon Cinnamon Rolls, Airport, Orem, & Michelle’s Knock Offs (Early 2000s): Michelle introduced me to Cinnabon Cinnamon rolls after we were married and waiting for a flight in the Salt Lake Airport. I’d previously given them no attention since they were airport food and, regardless of how good it might taste, airport food is always greatly overpriced. She spoke favorably of them, though, and it didn’t take much convincing to get me to share one. When we started in on it, I was not prepared for this beast of a cinnamon roll whose main selling point seems to be its sheer excess: huge rolls, tons of sugar, and tons of icing (with the option to buy an additional small tub of icing). It was Enormous, and it was Awesome (it might have been less awesome if someone had shown me the calories in each bite). It didn’t take long to start a tradition to get one every time we flew—perhaps even sometimes getting one each. They were worth the hefty price if we had the money. I became slightly less enthused, however, after an evening of pure madness: For a treat night one weekend at BYU, I drove to a nearby mall in Orem and bought a 6 pack of these cinnamon rolls with a few extra tubs of icing. Even with my enthusiasm, I couldn’t get through more than one of those rolls, which meant leaving the rest in the freezer for a time (something almost unheard of in the Clark home). Apparently even I had my limits. We’ve never bought them since.
They did enjoy a renaissance, though, when Michelle found a knock off recipe for them online. Michelle’s may have even tasted better because: 1. we had more control on the toppings and amount of frosting; and 2. we made them at a fraction of the cost.
7. Family Home Evening Activity at Smith’s (Provo 2000): For the first few months of our marriage, we lived in Provo without a car. That thought seems scarcely imaginable now, but at the time it was a novel way to make ends meet. I think we were almost proud of it. At any rate, for one of our earliest home evenings, our activity was to walk to a nearby Smith’s Grocery Store and get a treat. While in the store, an announcement came abruptly over the store’s PA system that changed all plans. The woman who spoke noted that for the next 15 minutes the donuts in the bakery case were all on sale--$2.00 for whatever you could fit in a box. With cat like reflexes I raced over to the bakery and with Michelle went to work stuffing as many donuts into one of those boxes as we could. (It’s a good thing I raced over there, too, because another woman soon came to pick over what donuts were left). In the end we stuffed 22 donuts in a box meant to barely fit 12. I even had to try and sneak past the checker at the register the fact that the box wouldn’t close without a bit of help. I think I sensed a snicker from her.
I’m sure the donuts weren’t terribly tasty, but at that price it almost didn’t matter what they tasted like. We talked all the way home and for months after about how lucky we were to have been in the store at that moment, ascribing our good fortune to our faithfulness in holding family home evening.
6. Mag’s Cinnamon Crumb Donuts, Mag’s Bakery (Irvine 2004-Present): I hold a special place in my heart for little donut shops, and can hardly pass one by without feeling some urge to stop in and sample their fare. Last summer, I finally stopped at a bakery near the home we were staying at in Irvine. There, at Mag’s Donut Bakery, I brought home samples of several different donuts, one of which is their Cinnamon Crumb Donut. It’s a cake donut, with cinnamon crumbs coating the outside. The donut is so plain in its ambition, and yet the result is satisfying perfection. As far as cake donuts are concerned, I have never tasted its equal. Mag’s earns points for offering a $1.00 discount for buying a dozen donuts, and for the quaint phrase on its box “Handcrafted to Perfection.” (The notion that they “hand craft” their donuts brings chuckles, but also shows the kind of dedication I expect from successful mom and pop donut shops).
What adds to the humor with these donuts is that the two friends that I’ve introduced these donuts to have not shared my passion. In fact, they haven’t even seemed to like them! (Both hardly even tried them). That alone may have helped propel these donuts to #6, because that left more for me.
5. Mom’s Chocolate Cinnamon Rolls (Early 90’s and Once After My Mission):
These were the days never to be forgotten: when Mom had the time and inclination to work her culinary magic toward the creation of one of the finest treats of my teenage years: chocolate cinnamon rolls. They were exactly what they sound like, cinnamon rolls with chocolate dough and standard powdered sugar icing (best when just crusted over).
What adds to their value and propels them to the top 5 is their scarcity. I may have enjoyed them 3 or 4 times in my childhood, and then once again on special request after my mission. They have never been seen since, partly because Mom’s time for such baking shrank as she studied for and eventually became a registered nurse. Additionally, though, they don’t quite fit into the South Beach Diet.
4. Chocolate Milk & Donut Runs (Early 90s): One of these runs was described specifically in #17. On the whole, though, these late night chocolate milk and donut runs that accompanied weekend sleepovers made for some of the best memories of the early years of my life. They started in Herkimer one evening at a friend’s house when we decided to walk a few blocks to a convenience store for a late night treat. Some Hershey’s Chocolate Milk and donuts were what seemed most appealing. Most times I think we simply bought the Hostess Donettes that come pre-packaged and last for years on a convenient store shelf (the chocolate coated variety of these are seriously underrated).
Those treats, the late night company, and the video games we played were all I could hope for in the weekends that accompanied those formative teenage years. Some of my nightly excursions even now for ice cream or something else seem merely to be attempts to recapture some of the innocence, wholesome pleasure, and comfort of those late night donut runs of my youth.
3. 4 Dozen Krispy Kremes in Iowa (2001): In August of 2001 my family had sold their home in Upstate New York and were on their way cross country to meet us in Utah, making their new home in Layton. Michelle and I were still at BYU, with Michelle set to graduate in a few days. One fateful afternoon, we found a message left by Mom on our answering machine alerting us to the fact that while passing through Iowa, the van my father was driving had been hit head on by a pick up truck crossing the median. Dad was in surgery and in critical condition. The stresses and worries of that time can’t be adequately treated here, but within a day or two it was decided that I’d fly out to Iowa to help my mother finish the drive to Utah, while Dad stayed beyond in the hospital recovering (both of his femur bones had been broken by the steering wheel). I had hoped to lighten the load and provide what little relief my presence and resources could muster.
I stuck with what I knew. Borrowing my Elder’s Quorum President’s Krispy Kreme Card, I flew to Iowa. On the day we were to resume the journey, we visited Dad, gave blessings to the Dad, Mom, and the children, and then made our way to Krispy Kreme, where I bought an unprecedented 4 dozen donuts to see us through the journey (the card given me provided a free dozen glazed for every dozen purchased). We left 1 dozen donuts with the Nyes, the family that had graciously hosted my family for nearly a week, and then took the rest with us on the road. If nothing else, the sheer number of donuts gave my siblings something to talk about other than the accident. I dare not say the donuts themselves provided much healing, but at least they provided for some light moments amid the somberness of a very difficult time.
2. Hemstrought’s Half Moons, Maple & Chocolate Fingers (Late 80s, 90s): Hemstrought’s bakery was a small store next to a grocery store less than a mile from our home. When we were able to collect and return enough soda and beer cans from the nearby softball and Little League fields (each offering a 5 cent return at any grocery store) we would sometimes venture to spend our earnings on Hemstrought’s donuts. I remember my brother Nathan’s eyes growing especially large when they attendant would place those enormous chocolate or maple bar donuts in a box for us (we always got those since they were the biggest and seemed to give us the most for our money). For most of my younger years, Hemstrought’s was the best we could ever hope for from the donut world, and those donuts were all we ever wanted. Nothing gave Nathan or me greater delight than to bring home a box of those donuts to share only between ourselves.
I don’t remember when exactly I was turned to the Hemstrought’s Half Moons (other parts of the world seem to call them Black & White Cookies) but these cake-like cookies with half chocolate, half vanilla frosting were then and are still the “end all be all” of delectable bakery treats. Holland Farms also makes half moons, but my memory is most vivid of those that came from Hemstroughts. If you were to line up all the pastries I’ve described (or will describe) and then ask me to select just one, I would not hesitate to reach for the Hemstrought’s half moon, or the ones Michelle now makes utilizing the Hemstrought’s recipe found somewhere on the internet.
1. Holland Farm’s Chocolate and Maple Bars Donuts (May 13, 1995-Early 2000s): My affinity for Holland Farms donuts, and my reason for placing their Chocolate and Maple Bars #1, can be traced to the days after my youngest brother Peter was born. Peter was born only a day before I was to go to the first of two junior proms. That morning Dad took some of the kids to the hospital in Utica to see Mom and my new little brother. On the way, though, he stopped at Holland Farms to buy some orange juice and donuts. Among the donuts I remember were the Chocolate Bars, with a lighter chocolate icing that almost made them look like maple bars.
We drank and ate freely as we made our way to the hospital in eager anticipation, and then were a little awe struck to look at and hold the newest addition to our family, even with his chaffing skin (he came a bit late). That was a happy morning, perhaps made fonder because time has darkened anything other than the joys. These donuts rank an easy #1, in part because they were above average donuts, but also because I cannot help but think of that morning without feeling the urge to smile broadly and almost laugh at the delightful precursor a quick stop for donuts and orange juice made for meeting Peter for the first time. If all mornings could be as that one was for me, I would think myself in Heaven.
To add to that, years later after my mission I took great pleasure in taking my younger brothers Bryan and Peter on secret early Saturday morning donut runs for the family, making the 30 mile round trip to Holland Farms to pick up a box or two of these donuts and orange juice. We did this on a number of occasions, each time less of a surprise than the last. Just ask Bryan and Peter, though, whether they remember those trips, and I’m almost willing to bet they remember the donuts bought and sampled better than I do.
Honorable Mention:
One Halloween in Ilion (mid 90s)
Tasty’s Spudnuts on Fantasy League Draft Day (2005)
Unexpected Breakfast of Glazed Donuts at My High School Graduation
Saturday, October 01, 2005
Top 21 Donut/Pastry Experiences Part I
Below are the first ten of my Top 21 All Time Donut/Pastry Experiences. I fear the post might not endear me to anyone, but instead to anyone looking for it, it will give all the more reason to think that I need counseling. They might be right. To most of the rest of you, having known me you probably made that determination some time ago…and yet here you are. You either are amused by my madness or at least curious to see how deeply it runs. With that, I proceed with the rankings.
Donut/Pastry Ranking Criteria: The list takes as its guide four separate criteria, each of which have relatively equal weight.
Taste: The better tasting the pastry, the higher it will score in this category.
Cost of the Donut: This item doesn’t necessarily follow conventional wisdom. Normally the cheaper the donut the higher it’s likely to rank in this category. If the donut was free, however, and expected to be free, the price might get taken for granted and be ranked only slightly higher than the pastries I’ve paid an arm and a leg for. Additionally, the “cost” of the donut will sometimes include the sacrifice and effort required to enjoy them, and in these instances the greater the sacrifice, the higher I’m inclined to rank them. So, for instance, the donuts from my early morning seminary class were not “free” because I had to show up to seminary (at 5:30am no less) to enjoy them. These kinds of sacrifices will often add more value to the pastry and rank it higher in this category. (Please do not ask me to explain why a donut will be ranked lower if I had to pay more money for it, but higher if I had to sacrifice other non-monetary things like time and sleep. On one level it makes no sense, but on another it makes perfect sense. It’s on the latter level that my mind works in relation to pastries, and I’m powerless to try and change that).
Importance of the Experience or Event the Pastry Is Linked To: Quite simply, the more important or memorable the event was to me that the pastry is linked to, the higher it will rank in this category. Importance doesn’t necessarily mean “important.” Instead I think it means the profoundness of the memory it created in my consciousness.
The Pastry’s Effect on the Experience: Somewhat linked to the last category, this category ranks pastries according to their impact on the fondness of my memory of the experience or event. The more the pastry enhanced the experience, the higher it will rank in this category.
One other preliminary matter: This list for the most part concerns only donuts and other pastries that struck me as being donut-like. This will not include most cookies, cakes, pies, or brownies. Otherwise, I fear brownies and cookies might dominate the list. I’ll have to rank them another time. There are exceptions, but hopefully those exceptions make intuitive sense.
Here we go:
21. Dandy Donuts—Early Morning Seminary (Early 90s): These donuts came at a great price in those cold early mornings in upstate New York. Where I lived, seminary started at 5:30am, and I spent my first three years resisting it. Oh I went, but I did everything I could to be uncooperative and sarcastic (I remember well my first Seminary Report Card: “Caustic Remarks and Unresponsive Answers May Affect Grade.”). The year we studied the Doctrine & Covenants, though, the teacher brought donuts every Friday from Dandy Donuts. They were never the best tasting donuts (in fact, I found in February that they’re now out of business—I lowered my hat and bowed my head as we passed), but at times they were the one solace for a young man otherwise determined to make sure he didn’t enjoy early morning seminary.
20. Butternut Donuts—Dunkin’ Donuts (2003-2005): When we returned to Cambridge, MA for my 2nd year of law school, I was delighted to find a Dunkin’ Donuts/Baskin Robbins opened up not far from our apartment on my way to school. It soon became one of the great tests of my law school experience, however, as I had to brave my journeys to and from school each day without stopping in too frequently for a few treats. Evenso, I became a bit too fond of their butternut donuts, and soon noticed as I passed the store each morning and afternoon that I always looked through the store window to see how many butternut donuts they had for sale (Sometimes I even swore I could tell how many they had when we were driving past—sad, but true). They rank lower on this list, though, because everything was overpriced in that store, the donuts always soaked in a coffee smell, were sometimes stale from sitting out all day, and because more often than not their credit card machine wasn’t working—once costing a friend some ice cream because I had no cash and had to borrow money.
19. Dunkin Donuts on Thruway Stops to the Hill Cumorah Pageant (mid 90s): I remember distinctly one particular 2 hour drive to the Hill Cumorah Pageant in Palmyra, New York with some friends. Far more than I was looking forward to the pageant, however, which I had seen several times, were the donuts I would get on the Thruway Stop (Stops along the pay toll highway that runs through the middle of New York State). It was one of many such trips. The price of the donuts was inflated with Thruway Stop price gouging, but they still were what made the trip worthwhile. I just wish they had tasted as good as I had envisioned when we started the trip. Somehow I always fooled myself into believing they’d be better than they turned out to be—not that I’m complaining.
18. Cochinitos-Pan Dulce (“Sweet Bread”), Olivehurst, CA (1997): Olivehurst was part of the first area I was sent to as a missionary in Northern CA. It’s claim to fame is that it has (or had at the time) the highest per capita rate of ex convicts in the United States. That always made tracting interesting. At any rate, during those difficult first few months, one pleasant memory was discovering “pan dulce” at a small Mexican bakery in Olivehurst, particularly the “cochinitos” pastries, slightly more bland than gingerbread, in the shape of pigs. With milk they were delightful. They lose points, however, because the store owner was impatient and a little rude when I tried to speak to him in Spanish.
17. Nice & Easy Donut for July 4th Twilight Zone Marathon (Early 90s): This was one of the more memorable experiences from my youth. Given what little pleasures there were to be had in Upstate New York, I looked forward with eager anticipation to New Years Eve and July 4th for the Twilight Zone Marathon: Endless hours of the old black and white Twilight Zone episodes long into the night and the next morning. The longer we were able to stay up and “beat the Sandman” the prouder we felt. For one particular Marathon, a friend of mine was sleeping over, and sometime after midnight we decided to make a run to Nice & Easy, a nearby convenient store, for some donuts and chocolate milk. The donuts we got were the stale kind, probably put there the morning before by some local bakery, which about 12 hours previous had outlived their usefulness. I wasn’t hard to please, though. The one particular donut I remember had chocolate frosting, with sprinkles, and a whip cream like filling. It was also quite stale. As I was eating this stale donut back at home, my Mom came down stairs (who always thought we should go to bed), probably somewhat alarmed that we were still up watching the Marathon and that we additionally were eating stale donuts and drinking chocolate milk. With the lateness of the hour working like laughing gas on young teenagers already disposed to silliness, we found it hysterical to think my mother at that moment an ally of the Sandman, and the stale donut his poisonous attempt to make us go to bed. I don’t expect you to understand, but it nonetheless ranks #16 on my list.
16. Scones & Honey Butter (Oroville, 1997): I spent my first Christmas morning as a missionary in Oroville, CA opening presents with the rest of the missionaries in the area at a nearby chapel. Imagine our surprise when my companion and I sat down and found that the AP’s (Assistants to the Mission President) had hidden unknown Christmas Packages from family and friends in the baptismal font! Merry Christmas Indeed! What added to the joy of the morning was that one of my best friends from Upstate New York not only happened to be in the same mission I was in, but also in the same area, so we were together that morning. We also were treated to some delicious Scones with Honey Butter by Sister Hardy after opening presents—unexpectedly delicious treats that surely hastened my gaining 50 lbs the first 18 months of my mission (then taking them off in the last 6).
15. Thanksgiving Morning Coffee Cake (2003): Michelle was 8 months pregnant for this Thanksgiving, and we had the company of a good friend in our 1 bedroom apartment in Cambridge, MA. Even with the unpleasantries of being great with child, Michelle was still determined to make a feast worthy of kings—and that’s just what she did. Among her delectable treats from the morning (to say nothing of what followed for the actual dinner) was a wonderful coffee cake (Yes, yes, this has the word “cake” in it, so perhaps it shouldn’t count. It strikes me as something akin to a donut, though, given when it’s normally eaten, so it counts. Again, I’m just feeling these things out as I go along, and who am I to deny my feelings?). To give you an idea of how good this coffee cake was, I had bought a dozen donuts earlier that morning from the “over-priced, credit card machine doesn’t work” Dunkin Donuts. Despite overstuffing myself with those donuts, I still couldn’t stop eating a ½ slice here and there of that coffee cake. It was that good.
14. Hot Krispy Kreme in Mesa, AZ (2001): When I got to BYU in 1999, there were rumors and whispers of a donut franchise called “Krispy Kreme” with hot glazed donuts so good that people would drive from Provo to Las Vegas just to buy a box. Naturally I was intrigued, but it would be years before Krispy Kreme would come to Orem, UT. I got my first taste of Krispy Kreme donuts in Mesa, AZ in 2001 after getting married and spending some time with my Father in law. There we saw through the glass windows as the donuts were fried and glazed. We even got a free sample donut as well before buying a dozen to take home. The Hot Glazed donut was a novel and enjoyable, but I was somewhat underwhelmed by everything else they had to offer. Oh, I talked up Krispy Kreme donuts for a time afterwards and even considered waiting overnight for the opening of the Orem store some time later, but those words and feelings were more aspirational than a reflection of how good they actually were. Now? I’ll take a Hot Krispy Kreme Glazed Donut when I can get my hands on one, but I’ll rarely go out of my way for one. Nothing else they sell is really worth what they’ll charge you. (And no donut, I repeat NO donut, certainly not a Krispy Kreme, is worth a 12 hour round trip—a 4 hour round trip, maybe, but not 12, and not for Krispy Kremes).
13. Plain Cake Donuts for Halloween in Oswego, NY (Early 80s): Except for one or two instances, my earliest memories are from Oswego, NY (We moved from there after kindergarten). One memory in particular is of the plain cake donuts and cider we got to have one Halloween. While other kids were out trick-or-treating, we were inside bobbing for apples and eating donuts (for reasons worthy of another post, my Dad wouldn’t let us go trick or treating until my Mom prevailed upon him when I was in first grade). The donuts were plain, but were all I needed back then to make the evening memorable enough that I recall it more than 20 years later.
12. Holland Farms Cinnamon Rolls (Freshman Year of College & After Mission): I spent my freshman year of college at Utica College of Syracuse University, a college about 15 miles from my then home. It was while there that I finally ventured into Holland Farms, the delightful little bakery with the two fake cow heads on their sign (We passed it all the time on the way to the Utica Stake Center, but never ventured inside). One of the bakery’s many enchantments is their cinnamon roll. With icing of near perfect consistency that was always just crusted over, I fell further under the spell with each cinnamon roll I ate. Of course when you get the icing right on a cinnamon roll, it almost doesn’t matter what the roll itself tastes like.
My Top 11 Experiences to follow tomorrow.
Donut/Pastry Ranking Criteria: The list takes as its guide four separate criteria, each of which have relatively equal weight.
Taste: The better tasting the pastry, the higher it will score in this category.
Cost of the Donut: This item doesn’t necessarily follow conventional wisdom. Normally the cheaper the donut the higher it’s likely to rank in this category. If the donut was free, however, and expected to be free, the price might get taken for granted and be ranked only slightly higher than the pastries I’ve paid an arm and a leg for. Additionally, the “cost” of the donut will sometimes include the sacrifice and effort required to enjoy them, and in these instances the greater the sacrifice, the higher I’m inclined to rank them. So, for instance, the donuts from my early morning seminary class were not “free” because I had to show up to seminary (at 5:30am no less) to enjoy them. These kinds of sacrifices will often add more value to the pastry and rank it higher in this category. (Please do not ask me to explain why a donut will be ranked lower if I had to pay more money for it, but higher if I had to sacrifice other non-monetary things like time and sleep. On one level it makes no sense, but on another it makes perfect sense. It’s on the latter level that my mind works in relation to pastries, and I’m powerless to try and change that).
Importance of the Experience or Event the Pastry Is Linked To: Quite simply, the more important or memorable the event was to me that the pastry is linked to, the higher it will rank in this category. Importance doesn’t necessarily mean “important.” Instead I think it means the profoundness of the memory it created in my consciousness.
The Pastry’s Effect on the Experience: Somewhat linked to the last category, this category ranks pastries according to their impact on the fondness of my memory of the experience or event. The more the pastry enhanced the experience, the higher it will rank in this category.
One other preliminary matter: This list for the most part concerns only donuts and other pastries that struck me as being donut-like. This will not include most cookies, cakes, pies, or brownies. Otherwise, I fear brownies and cookies might dominate the list. I’ll have to rank them another time. There are exceptions, but hopefully those exceptions make intuitive sense.
Here we go:
21. Dandy Donuts—Early Morning Seminary (Early 90s): These donuts came at a great price in those cold early mornings in upstate New York. Where I lived, seminary started at 5:30am, and I spent my first three years resisting it. Oh I went, but I did everything I could to be uncooperative and sarcastic (I remember well my first Seminary Report Card: “Caustic Remarks and Unresponsive Answers May Affect Grade.”). The year we studied the Doctrine & Covenants, though, the teacher brought donuts every Friday from Dandy Donuts. They were never the best tasting donuts (in fact, I found in February that they’re now out of business—I lowered my hat and bowed my head as we passed), but at times they were the one solace for a young man otherwise determined to make sure he didn’t enjoy early morning seminary.
20. Butternut Donuts—Dunkin’ Donuts (2003-2005): When we returned to Cambridge, MA for my 2nd year of law school, I was delighted to find a Dunkin’ Donuts/Baskin Robbins opened up not far from our apartment on my way to school. It soon became one of the great tests of my law school experience, however, as I had to brave my journeys to and from school each day without stopping in too frequently for a few treats. Evenso, I became a bit too fond of their butternut donuts, and soon noticed as I passed the store each morning and afternoon that I always looked through the store window to see how many butternut donuts they had for sale (Sometimes I even swore I could tell how many they had when we were driving past—sad, but true). They rank lower on this list, though, because everything was overpriced in that store, the donuts always soaked in a coffee smell, were sometimes stale from sitting out all day, and because more often than not their credit card machine wasn’t working—once costing a friend some ice cream because I had no cash and had to borrow money.
19. Dunkin Donuts on Thruway Stops to the Hill Cumorah Pageant (mid 90s): I remember distinctly one particular 2 hour drive to the Hill Cumorah Pageant in Palmyra, New York with some friends. Far more than I was looking forward to the pageant, however, which I had seen several times, were the donuts I would get on the Thruway Stop (Stops along the pay toll highway that runs through the middle of New York State). It was one of many such trips. The price of the donuts was inflated with Thruway Stop price gouging, but they still were what made the trip worthwhile. I just wish they had tasted as good as I had envisioned when we started the trip. Somehow I always fooled myself into believing they’d be better than they turned out to be—not that I’m complaining.
18. Cochinitos-Pan Dulce (“Sweet Bread”), Olivehurst, CA (1997): Olivehurst was part of the first area I was sent to as a missionary in Northern CA. It’s claim to fame is that it has (or had at the time) the highest per capita rate of ex convicts in the United States. That always made tracting interesting. At any rate, during those difficult first few months, one pleasant memory was discovering “pan dulce” at a small Mexican bakery in Olivehurst, particularly the “cochinitos” pastries, slightly more bland than gingerbread, in the shape of pigs. With milk they were delightful. They lose points, however, because the store owner was impatient and a little rude when I tried to speak to him in Spanish.
17. Nice & Easy Donut for July 4th Twilight Zone Marathon (Early 90s): This was one of the more memorable experiences from my youth. Given what little pleasures there were to be had in Upstate New York, I looked forward with eager anticipation to New Years Eve and July 4th for the Twilight Zone Marathon: Endless hours of the old black and white Twilight Zone episodes long into the night and the next morning. The longer we were able to stay up and “beat the Sandman” the prouder we felt. For one particular Marathon, a friend of mine was sleeping over, and sometime after midnight we decided to make a run to Nice & Easy, a nearby convenient store, for some donuts and chocolate milk. The donuts we got were the stale kind, probably put there the morning before by some local bakery, which about 12 hours previous had outlived their usefulness. I wasn’t hard to please, though. The one particular donut I remember had chocolate frosting, with sprinkles, and a whip cream like filling. It was also quite stale. As I was eating this stale donut back at home, my Mom came down stairs (who always thought we should go to bed), probably somewhat alarmed that we were still up watching the Marathon and that we additionally were eating stale donuts and drinking chocolate milk. With the lateness of the hour working like laughing gas on young teenagers already disposed to silliness, we found it hysterical to think my mother at that moment an ally of the Sandman, and the stale donut his poisonous attempt to make us go to bed. I don’t expect you to understand, but it nonetheless ranks #16 on my list.
16. Scones & Honey Butter (Oroville, 1997): I spent my first Christmas morning as a missionary in Oroville, CA opening presents with the rest of the missionaries in the area at a nearby chapel. Imagine our surprise when my companion and I sat down and found that the AP’s (Assistants to the Mission President) had hidden unknown Christmas Packages from family and friends in the baptismal font! Merry Christmas Indeed! What added to the joy of the morning was that one of my best friends from Upstate New York not only happened to be in the same mission I was in, but also in the same area, so we were together that morning. We also were treated to some delicious Scones with Honey Butter by Sister Hardy after opening presents—unexpectedly delicious treats that surely hastened my gaining 50 lbs the first 18 months of my mission (then taking them off in the last 6).
15. Thanksgiving Morning Coffee Cake (2003): Michelle was 8 months pregnant for this Thanksgiving, and we had the company of a good friend in our 1 bedroom apartment in Cambridge, MA. Even with the unpleasantries of being great with child, Michelle was still determined to make a feast worthy of kings—and that’s just what she did. Among her delectable treats from the morning (to say nothing of what followed for the actual dinner) was a wonderful coffee cake (Yes, yes, this has the word “cake” in it, so perhaps it shouldn’t count. It strikes me as something akin to a donut, though, given when it’s normally eaten, so it counts. Again, I’m just feeling these things out as I go along, and who am I to deny my feelings?). To give you an idea of how good this coffee cake was, I had bought a dozen donuts earlier that morning from the “over-priced, credit card machine doesn’t work” Dunkin Donuts. Despite overstuffing myself with those donuts, I still couldn’t stop eating a ½ slice here and there of that coffee cake. It was that good.
14. Hot Krispy Kreme in Mesa, AZ (2001): When I got to BYU in 1999, there were rumors and whispers of a donut franchise called “Krispy Kreme” with hot glazed donuts so good that people would drive from Provo to Las Vegas just to buy a box. Naturally I was intrigued, but it would be years before Krispy Kreme would come to Orem, UT. I got my first taste of Krispy Kreme donuts in Mesa, AZ in 2001 after getting married and spending some time with my Father in law. There we saw through the glass windows as the donuts were fried and glazed. We even got a free sample donut as well before buying a dozen to take home. The Hot Glazed donut was a novel and enjoyable, but I was somewhat underwhelmed by everything else they had to offer. Oh, I talked up Krispy Kreme donuts for a time afterwards and even considered waiting overnight for the opening of the Orem store some time later, but those words and feelings were more aspirational than a reflection of how good they actually were. Now? I’ll take a Hot Krispy Kreme Glazed Donut when I can get my hands on one, but I’ll rarely go out of my way for one. Nothing else they sell is really worth what they’ll charge you. (And no donut, I repeat NO donut, certainly not a Krispy Kreme, is worth a 12 hour round trip—a 4 hour round trip, maybe, but not 12, and not for Krispy Kremes).
13. Plain Cake Donuts for Halloween in Oswego, NY (Early 80s): Except for one or two instances, my earliest memories are from Oswego, NY (We moved from there after kindergarten). One memory in particular is of the plain cake donuts and cider we got to have one Halloween. While other kids were out trick-or-treating, we were inside bobbing for apples and eating donuts (for reasons worthy of another post, my Dad wouldn’t let us go trick or treating until my Mom prevailed upon him when I was in first grade). The donuts were plain, but were all I needed back then to make the evening memorable enough that I recall it more than 20 years later.
12. Holland Farms Cinnamon Rolls (Freshman Year of College & After Mission): I spent my freshman year of college at Utica College of Syracuse University, a college about 15 miles from my then home. It was while there that I finally ventured into Holland Farms, the delightful little bakery with the two fake cow heads on their sign (We passed it all the time on the way to the Utica Stake Center, but never ventured inside). One of the bakery’s many enchantments is their cinnamon roll. With icing of near perfect consistency that was always just crusted over, I fell further under the spell with each cinnamon roll I ate. Of course when you get the icing right on a cinnamon roll, it almost doesn’t matter what the roll itself tastes like.
My Top 11 Experiences to follow tomorrow.
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