This is going to be a tough one to write. Quite humbling actually.
Let’s back it up a few weeks, ease into things…
First of all, I’d love to say “it’s great to be back” and “I love all my fans.”
It’s not – I don’t.
I now know exactly how three out of the four Baldwin brothers feel. Every day I am hounded incessantly by peasant-folk:
“Pastry, when are you going make your return?!”
“Daniel, tell me if you like this crueller!”
“PLEASE Mr. Pastry, come to Canada, teach us how to be more like you!”
Here’s some quick answers to all of these: I’m not some cheesy Mayhem in the Morning-Zoo DJ, and I’m not spinning records in da’ club. I DON’T DO REQUESTS!!
– Oh, and this* too. (*nsfw)
Wow; I feel A LOT better now. Really good to get all that off my chest, and we can move on from this together.
A certain holiday came and went about two some odd weeks ago. National Donut Day is much like Thanksgiving to many; a full day’s event, all in celebration of what many assume to be the King that sits the throne above the greater pastry world.
It’s a big deal. Then again so am I. Yet, unlike previous years, I felt my mission to be different on this particular June 7th. Previously I have gone to great lengths to seek out a rare prize. No distance was too far to travel, no donut out of my reach. I always obtained the unobtainable.
This year, well, it just struck a different chord within me. Instead of hunting down a “Yeti” (that’s how us pastry-professionals refer to a particularly rare confection), I would go for an even bigger prize. I would attempt to traverse the gauntlet, complete the marathon, demolish the Persian army…over the course of the day:
I would eat a bakers-dozen of artisan donuts!
By no means is this a simple task, for I am no mere simple man. Allow me to explain:
A dozen grocery store donuts (of let’s say the Entemann’s variety), while quite popular – they do not carry the same weight as an Artisan donut. They are factory-produced, and carry a lighter consistency and lower general mass than the fare you can receive at Ye Olde Donut Shoppe — It’s simple Donut-Algebra really.
While it’s still an admirable feat, a very large portion of the populous can crush a box of those donuts, let alone a dozen. I had to go BIGGER. I went to Ye Olde Donut Shoppe – I needed something new to brag about. That’s a sticker I could see myself slapping on the back of my car, really sticking it to the “26.2” crowd. Keep running ya jerkwads!! I am all that is man!!
I’m going to skip some details here because honestly, they’re either really embarrassing or are simply lost in a hazelnut haze of humility. I shot for the moon, and landed on the floor laying belly up beside my table. Like James Brown did many times before me, I had to be carried off the stage – but I did not miraculously return.
I knew I had 24 hours to complete this quest. Looking at the bounty in front of me (above), I got a tad bit overexcited. S’mores, maple bacon, Oreo crumble, vanilla-butter crunch, chocolate and strawberry sprinkled…I panicked. I began (methodically, mind you) eating one of each with no semblance of pacing. I’m ashamed to say it was a lot like this.
Five. I ate five. I just couldn’t do anymore. I’m not going to make excuses, and I am not going to rationalize away the crushing blow to my otherwise invulnerable ego. Sometimes you don’t win the big game.
I will say this, each donut was incredible. They’re hand-made on site moments before sale, but I won’t say where. If they find out what I tried and how it concluded, well, I’m worried it would forever change our otherwise loving and committed relationship.
I can come back from this. Sports teams play well during the regular season and lose epically in the play-offs all the time (right Washington DC?). I just have to tuck my tail in-between my legs, and dramatically march off into the sunset, with enough pride to keep my head held up high and with the courage to return again for a sequel…