National Donut Day (Sigh)

With 52 minutes to go, I have finally celebrated National Donut Day.

Last year, due to an unexpected happening (the Man was stuck at work), I was unable to fulfill my longing for donuts on this most propitious of days, the first Friday of June, and I almost thought today was going to be just a tragic repeat. But thanks to Aunt C's handy car and a nearby Valero gas station, I was able to achieve my dream of celebrating what could be the best day of the year. 1.5 donuts later (and a couple left in the box), I feel the need to blog.

May I just wax eloquent about the donut for a moment? I must say that any breakfast pastry that can sit for hours in an ill-lit, tepidly muggy gas station and still taste as good as that donut just did deserves an award. Not to mention that any breakfast pastry that can be cooked in a metal combat helmet over an open fire during WW1 deserves a medal for bravery in the face of extremely hot oil. The donut is pretty much perfection. Certainly, it can be ruined. Too greasy, too heavy, too soggy... But when done well, there is no breakfast pastry that comes close (except possibly cheese danish, but that's another blog in and of itself). A perfect donut is, well, really, it almost deprives me of words. Then again, I think I've got it:

A perfect donut is fried happiness.

Special Thanks To: Aunt C for the use of her car and being my partner in gluttony, my oldest and extremely helpful sister for reminding me of the joy we celebrate, and my loving husband for challenging me to achieve my dreams, even (and especially) if they involve donuts.