Do or Donut

The other day, Ter challenged me to write 700 words about donuts. She was joking; I took her seriously …

Who knew that a lump of sweet dough, deep-fried and dunked in cinnamon sugar, would become a cultural icon? That a plethora of sweet sticky syrupy centres could be housed in fluffy golden goodness? That crushed peanuts and toasted coconut would be so nummy glued with glaze to a treat resembling a tender and crumbly Life Saver? Or that a donut shop named for a hockey player would successfully thwart a coffee empire’s nefarious plot to possess every city street corner and mall outlet in the country?

Only in Canada, you say?

Damn straight.

Canadians are—or once were—universally known as donut junkies. We poke fun at ourselves because of it. Countless comedy skits are set in donut shops. Need a cop right now? Look for squad cars at the nearest Tim Horton’s. Paper cups bearing the TH logo figure at every community rink. The chain, if not the donut itself, is a part of our national identity.

Of all the donuts I sampled in my wild and indiscriminate youth, Tim’s produced the tastiest and most varied morsels around. Honey-glazed yeast, white powdered jelly, maple dip, sour-cream-cake-rolled-in-sugar, vanilla-iced-with-sprinkles, caramel apple fritter, walnut or cherry stick; you name it, it’s somebody’s favourite. My preferences fluctuated as I grew up, but my go-to in the gluten days was always sugared raspberry jelly … when it wasn’t Boston Cream. (Pump custard into a running shoe and I’ll probably eat it.)

In the days before cars had cup holders, Ter and I would buy 20 Timbits, park the box on the console between us, and eat ’em like chips while we drove. Since three and a half donut holes equal a single donut, we could indulge in a variety trio apiece and suffer no more than the usual sugar crash down the road. She was all about the honey glaze, I preferred the cake (but never chocolate. Mysteriously, chocolate cake donuts do not cut it). Our mutual favourite, however, was the legendary Dutchie: a deliciously dense ball o’ dough studded with raisins and crusted in a sugar glaze. Created in 1964, it stayed in action until February 2014, when the Dutchie Timbit was discontinued due to “low popularity”.

I can’t imagine why.

Tim’s opened a shop downtown a few years ago, and bakeries in a ten block radius suddenly stopped selling donuts. I guess they thought the competition for donut consumption would crush them. Well, heck. They should also have quit selling sandwiches, soup, chili and oatmeal, too, because over the years those items have found their way onto Tim’s menu, along with bagels, muffins and breakfast sandwiches. One upon a time, the showcase displayed a mesmerizing array of glistening chocolate frost, chunky nut crunch and plump sugar jellies, but nowadays you need a GPS just to find the crullers.

I don’t remember the last time I saw a Tim’s commercial actually pushing donuts. The latest campaign was their pumpkin spice latte, and a p/s donut was placed near the mug, but no mention was made of the donut itself. Then there’s the grilled panini sandwich, lasagne casserole and the sirloin roast baguette. No wonder the Dutchie lost popularity. People have forgotten they ever existed!

Why do I care? I shouldn’t. GF donuts, if they exist, are probably used to anchor the buoys provided to tie up your sailboat offshore. They won’t be comparable to the real deal at any rate. And, despite a powerful craving during my gluten withdrawal, I was hardly a donut addict. Who am I to dictate what goes on a fast food menu?

Of course, donuts are not exclusive to the Great White North: A box of Krispy Kremes was once smuggled across the border by a co-worker and everyone on staff pounced on it, eager to see how the American version fared against our homegrown standard. One bite was enough for me: it was neither krispy nor kremey, just leaden, soggy and diabetes-inducing sweet. That sealed it. No other donut, be it disguised as loukoumades in Greek, lokma in Turkish, jalebi in Pakistani or beignet in French, could compare to an old-fashioned cinnamon cake donut from Tim Horton’s.

 

Assuming you can still get one.