At least, that’s what it sounded like to me.
Mom made a lot of desserts… Doughnuts weren’t something she usually made, which is one reason that day has stayed with me all these years.
She also made pies, cakes, cobblers, cookies, puddings, and almost anything else you could imagine. My favorites were cream puffs and Boston cream pie, but those doughnuts were near the top of the list. Nearly everything she made was from scratch, although she occasionally used a cake mix if she was in a hurry.
We had a Crosley electric stove back then in the late 1950s. The back left cooking area had a deep well. It was simply a deep cooking pot set into the stove itself, and that’s where Mom made soups and stews, and where she deep fried the doughnuts.
She had just started making them when Monty and I came in from school. She said we could have some for dessert that evening, but she wanted to have some left over for breakfast the next day.
We hovered around her watching what she was doing. She let us, but kept us away from the deep well in case it splattered hot oil.
We did get to peek once in a while, and I remember watching the oil sizzle around them.
It didn’t take long for them to fry. She took them out of the hot oil and laid them on paper towels she had spread on some plates.
When they had cooled a little, she drizzled them with a thin powdered sugar icing. The frying bread dough and icing together scented the air in a way that any bakery would have been proud of. I will never forget how the kitchen smelled that day.
When they had cooled enough for us to handle, she gave one to each of us. They disappeared so quickly, one might have almost wondered if they had been there in the first place, but there was the lingering taste and telltale signs of sticky fingers on both of us.
Of course, we wanted a second one, but she said we had to wait until after supper.
Dad came home from work not long after, and he had one, too. I remember him telling Mom how good it was.
After we ate supper, she gave us each a doughnut for dessert, and then a second one. If I remember correctly, we might even have gotten another one before bed, and, of course, before our baths.
The next morning, we got up eagerly expecting doughnuts for breakfast because she had said so the day before.
Unfortunately, she told us there weren’t any left. We ate them all the night before.
As an adult, I’ve realized she probably made only two dozen or so because that’s what most recipes would yield. Either that, or Dad had quite a bedtime snack!
But at the time… I would have sworn I heard her say ten dozen.
Through My Eyes, Gently 