There's A Hole In Here, Somewhere
I’ve been doing a bunch of baking, breaking out the butter like it was early December and the parties were waiting. There are explanations but it doesn’t matter. This house has smelled good and tasted better for the past few weeks. Cookies and donuts, all the way down.
And Monday evening, resuming a regular monthly meeting at church that was on hiatus over the summer, it was noted that no one had signed up to bring snacks. These are usually simple and minimal, just bites for a group of around 6-7 usually, often fruit and veggie trays, maybe some crackers and juice. Your basic preschool snack time.
So I bought our extra sugar, and once again—cookies and donuts for everyone.
The donuts are new, just something I always wanted to try, and a recipe for the baked variety appealed to me. I have no problem with fried anything, particularly fish and chicken, but it’s a mess to do. Lately when I’ve made fried chicken, I’ve cooked the meat sous vide and then tossed it in some oil for a minute to crisp it up—makes a much easier meal.
But I have no guilt about any of this. After years of a pretty standard shame about this kind of food, I’ve completely reversed my position, and not just because I’ve entered a stage of life in which I could use all the calories I can manage.
It’s just that life is too harsh to go without the simple joys, and I submit that a donut is joy that comes in its own container. The same thing could be said for a Twinkie. I prefer donuts, but you know. Personalities.
Here’s the funny thing, though: as soon as I emptied our cookie jar and that tray of remaining glazed goodness, I lost my appetite. I wandered around on Tuesday, trying to snack and finding nothing. I started to wonder if I’d been propping up a meager appetite with sugary goodness, or else I just missed the fun. Or maybe the cookies sparked my appetite, and I should always have many dozens around. This is all a very solvable problem.
The appetite is not so solvable, although once again I apologize for having a weird problem that few others do. If you can manage any sympathy, and I don’t blame you if you can’t, maybe understand that it’s all very new. It’s a little scary, just from my aging status alone, but I seem OK at the moment with eternal vigilance. I really can’t eat cookies all day; I’ll pay that price one way or another.
But maybe one cookie. Two isn’t out of the question. Seek out joy in small packages, I always say since two weeks ago.