Do or Donut. There is no try.
Every Sunday, after mass, I would hover by the box of Dunkin Donuts in the church basement, waiting for CCD to start. My parents allowed me to choose my own religion, and at the age of 12 I settled on Catholicism for two reasons: it’s what all my friends were, and because I felt at home there. Mostly because of those donuts.
I grew up with an Uncle who owned a DD so there were sometimes large boxes of them in the house. I’d go through probably half of them in a day. There’s something about the sheer variety that drove me crazy - with over a dozen flavors staring at me with their glazed, jelly-filled eyes screaming “EAT ME” - how could I not oblige? It was also clear that these foods were only good for one day. It was my duty to eat every single one of them.
Being one of two Asians at Sunday School made me feel self-conscious. Even though half the class was from my school, the other half wasn’t. I was sure that every time they called attendance and said the name “Chen” a gong went off with it. Those donuts were a source of connection for me. Irish and Italian and Chinese children coming together, all stuffing eclairs and fritters down our throats as fast as we could, before the teacher arrived.
I’ve no idea why I started writing about all that - I originally came to Thick Dumpling Skin to mention National Donut Day, which is today. As I began thinking about my history with bingeing and donuts, these are some memories that came up for me. They are probably the one food I never felt any guilt over, even after overeating them.
Today I still eat donuts without any remorse, but I do consume a lot fewer. Still, I often find that when I am enjoying them, it is often in the company of others. And it’s still a religious experience for me. Here’s some examples:
Birthday Beignets
