When you grow up in one region of the country and then move to another, you bring along food traditions that are completely unknown to your local friends. Realizing this is as disquieting as suggesting that what just happened is exactly like a movie that nobody has seen.
For me, this occurred last Halloween, after I'd hung donuts on a string from the top of a door frame for a party I was hosting. Apparently, this fat-laden East Coast alternative to bobbing for apples is not well known here in Kansas City, if it's known at all. Until I scrabbled together an explanation with a Sharpie and printer paper, people wondered why half-melted chocolate Entenmann's were dangling from the ceiling.
It is embarrassingly difficult to bite through a donut that is hanging
on a string. For starters, there's the problem of attempting to bite
both up and out, rather than just down as you might at a table. In
addition, donuts tend to be powdered or glazed, meaning your dignity is
gone in short order.
If the donuts have been hanging for a
while, then the string has also had a chance to dig into the cake
portion -- meaning you'll have to bite all the way through to dislodge
it. While you're working on the donut, it will swing and smudge your nose and cheeks with frosting. And it's pie-eating contest rules: no
hands.
For me, donuts on a string is about starting school and edging ever
closer to Halloween. An autumn ritual that became no easier,
whether I grew taller or smarter. It's about how easily I used to be
entertained. And it's the only game I ever played where the reward was
a donut.
Stay tuned. Tomorrow, we'll tell you which donut is the best
choice for trying this at home in our battle of the dishes
involving two local but often overlooked donut makers.
[Image via Flickr: katherine lynn]
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