Memories aren’t always grand, earth-shattering things. Sometimes they’re small — as small as a doughnut. One of my strongest childhood memories is of my dad going out each Saturday morning to buy doughnuts to bring home for us. They’d usually arrive in a cardboard box that we would open up on the kitchen table.
Rolls vs Doughnuts
We didn’t call them doughnuts, we called them “rolls.” We each had our favorites. Mine was a big round “roll” with chocolate frosting — or “icing,” as we called it. And since that was never enough, I’d top it off by spreading peanut butter on top, too (no wonder I wasn’t a small child). Mom usually wanted a cake doughnut, but they never seemed like a “real” roll to me. I’d eat a long john or a cream-filled occasionally, but the big round was my favorite. These days, I would choose an apple fritter. Were they even around back then? If so, I didn’t know about them.
My sister and I enjoyed our rolls each Saturday morning in front of the TV, watching our favorite shows. All was right in the world.
The things we love best as a child stay with us forever. It is its own kind of golden ticket. — Lucy Mangan
How about you? Any memories of donuts, or Saturday mornings, or ….?