"I Thought, Is It Too Early To Thank Old Saint Nick?"

 

 

Good Thanksgiving Thursday Morning, all bodies.

In the afternoon two days before today, I walked into Folsom's "The Donut Stop" to assure myself that there would be enough chocolate covered Bavarian creme donuts and apple fritters. The young woman at the counter, let's just call her Darcy, assured me that there would be but that they'd be closing at 1pm the day before Thanksgiving.

She asked me if I wanted to to secure my order and I told her that I didn't think that that would be necessary though in the back of my mind, I knew better. The Donut Stop's apple fritters are legendary.

Well, I should have placed an order, and then again, Darcy might have mistook my indecision and did it anyway!

It's been our Macy's Morning tradition even in California, to order danish and bearclaws and serve it with a big bowl of fruit. I can't find bearclaws that I like on the Northshore, so apple fritters fill the void... So to speak!

So yesterday around 10am, I saunter into the bakery to find no apple fritters on the shelf, or in the back, baking..AACK!

The woman who knows me from my frequent visits over the years, apologized and said that they were holding in a box, two apple fritters and two chocolate covered Bavarian creme donuts for pickup sometime today... for someone!

"Aw jeez, my wife told me that I should've placed an order," I said.

Therese who was with me was a bit disinterested because she spotted on the shelf plenty of chocolate covered Bavarian creme donuts.

So the manager, sporting a camo baseball cap, and wearing a long black apron that covered his camouflaged ensemble, seemed to be biding his time till 1pm. He came to the counter to see what was the problem.

After telling my tale hoping that Darcy mistook my non-order as an actual order, I awaited the manager's decision. The older woman told the manager that they were saving the order, but that there was no name written on the order.

I could tell by the sympathetic look on her face that she was pleading the case in defense of the entire staff as well as my traditional Macy's parade need.

The manager put his large hands across his salt and pepper gray beard and scrubbed it in thought.

"So, we don't know who actually made the order," right?

The older woman handling the drive up window, nodded.

"And it is the exact same order this man is looking for, right?"

"That's right," she said.

I could tell as he continued rubbing his beard that he was thinking about that "bird in an hand" stuff...

"Well then, let these folks have it!"

"That'll be $ 8.53 with tax," he said, confident in the finality of his decision.

I thought, is it too early to thank Old Saint Nick?

First home brewed with fritters!

Oh yeh, c... y'all.

Copyright 2023/Ben Bensen III

 

"A Salvation Army Special"

Celebratin' a holiday... for some folks!

 Good "Salvation" Friday Morning, all bodies.

It's National Donut Day... Who knew?

The Salvation Army established National Donut Day in 1938 to honor The Salvation Army's 'donut lassies,' who made history when they risked their lives to raise spirits and fuel hope by serving thousands of soldiers during WWI, in part by delivering donuts and other sweet treats to those in the war.

In 1917, Salvation Army volunteers traveled to France and set up makeshift huts on the front lines where they provided essential goods and sweet treats to boost morale. The donut was then, and continues to be, a taste of home and a symbol of comfort for Americans, so says the promo by the Salvation Army today.

And, it just happens to fall on a First Friday Folsom Business and Community breakfast at Giddy Up. How fortuitous!

First free cup!

Copyright 2022/Ben Bensen III

"What'dya Mean!"

No Donuts...

Good "Sorry, We're Closed" TGF Friday Day, all bodies!

So funny. As a continuation of my last donut story, you know the one about styrofoam and cinnamon rolls, I got a twitch to have an apple fritter last Sunday.

I was feeling unappreciated, put upon, and uninspired. I blame it all on my mother who probably felt the same way while I was in her womb and did something about it.

She ate donuts.

Now, every now and then, when I'm in a funk, my fat cells cry out for a donut. Donuts and me go way back. I've got lots of stories of my donut dalliances. But those are stories for another time.

Taking a small apple with me before I headed out to run errands that I didn't want any part of, I decided to stop by Folsom's one and only donut shoppe. An apple fritter would be a nice addition to help me get on with life. But, it was not to be.

As I drove up to the bakery, though the "Open" sign was blinking on and off enticing down and out folks like me to imbibe, the store looked dark. Upon further "007" investigation, I noticed a letter size sign taped to the door. On it in quickly scribbled letters read, "We are closed. We ran out of donuts!"

You WHAT?

How can a donut store run out of the very thing they are in business to provide? I mean, what? You ran out of pink icing? You ran out of silly colored sprinkles? Your bag of dough done stopped doughing? The donut machine bellied up? What?

How could a donut shoppe run out of donuts and not know it until it was too late?

Oh, I could gone on for days going Sherlock Holmes on this caper. Now what... Little Debbies? Fake Hubig pies?

I can tell you that Sunday was not a pretty sight trying to calm down and explain to my whiny ass fat cells what was going on.

"Shutup," I said..."Here, have an apple!"

First cup!

Copyright 2019/ Ben Bensen III