My great-niece Paige working on a batch of donuts to celebrate the first big snow.
Ranny sent me a picture via cameraphone to let me know that it was Donut Day in their area – meaning that the first big snow of the season was falling, and that they were making donuts to celebrate. They got a foot, in fact, which definitely makes it The Official First Snow of the Season. This was a tradition that Mom started some time in the misty (or snowy) past; every year she’d try to make them better than ever. I never got the hang of it although in high school I used to help cut the donuts and holes and
drop them in the fryer.
When the snow would start to fly, Mom’s phone would ring off the hook with calls from all over: “Are you making the donuts??” Over the years, she became rather strict in her assessment as to whether the snow was heavy enough to “stick” and was therefore officially The First (Big)((Heavy Enough To Stick))(((No Grass Showing Through))) Snow of the Season.
I am in a quandary about donuts. I donut know how to make ’em, I donut have a fryer, and I donut have a recipe. However, I feel a genetic imperative to do some sort of baking or make something memorable to mark the first snow, otherwise, I’ll be really bummed out this year with no call from Mom.
After I left college I was never again home for donut day, so I’d these triumphant calls from her or my sisters that it was Donut Day and that everybody (but me) was headed over.
Via: Flickr Title: Donut day By: GinnyRED57
Originally uploaded: 26 Nov ’06, 6.28pm CST PST
DonutDay
And the tradition is carried on!!! Now I need to get busy with the rum balls and disappearing cookies!!!
Mmmmm … Rum Balls >hic<
Rum Balls. Yeah, that’s the one where you need a lot of Nilla Vanilla Wafers, and a big strong grocery bag, and a rolling pin. And first you start out rolling, rolling, rolling the wafers to crush them to powder, and then you start pounding on the bag until it ruptures, shouting “Die! Die! Die, you stupid cookies!” because no longer how long you rolled, they were never ground fine enough. According to Mom, that is. When I still lived at home back in the Stone Age, you know.
I was so happy when the first Cuisinarts came out, because that meant my job as Human Food Processor was coming to an end.
But no… Mom bought a little bitty thing that would crush about a dozen cookies at a time, because those big honkin’ food processors were too expensive and she didn’t have the storage space.
Hmm. But there was all that lovely, loverly rum. Better haveanozzer taste just to make sure it hasn’t gone off while you were crushing those recalcitrant cookies to powder.