Doctor Breadhole

March 10, 2020: I am traveling to New Orleans via Chicago. North to go South. It is Breadhole Jr’s first flight, on what happens to be on his 365th day of life, the eve of his first birthday (delayed 24 hours, alas, by this leap year). A Noon flight that contradicts his daily napping schedule. He performs well on the first leg, but his new-experience exhaustion and shifted schedule makes eating the complementary pretzels on our first leg an ill-advised choice. In the face of possible tantrum, I acquiesce that small pleasure. We disembark our plane with the intent to eat during the layover. Rounding the corner from the gate, the fluorescent pink DD’s of Dunkin catch my eyes immediately.  “Uh, okay,” My wife says, preoccupied with the little boy strapped to her chest. “I wouldn’t dream of eating that,” my mom says, middle age having clearly stunted her imagination. It costs $1.50, possibly the cheapest 290 calories in the terminal. I choose the chocolate sprinkled fo

March 1st, 2020. I stop at Kroger on my way home to pick up some dinner ingredients. I make a pass by the ice cream treats aisle to see if my newest donut desire has been stocked: the Klondike Donut. Indeed, it has. I pick up a package of the Boston Cream-laced confection and leave the store, forgetting the rest of my shopping list. Halfway out of the parking lot I find myself turning around to re-enter the store. Worth it? That night I feed Breadhole Jr. is dinner: a banana, some blueberries, a vegetable puree. Afterwards we share a Klondike Donut. He eats a single bite and begins to scream with euphoric elation. Being a good parent, I limit him to one bite, which seems in hindsight a cruel and unnecessary move. He only stops screaming when I throw some cheerios on his tray and walk behind his high chair to finish the rest. Worth it? Ultimately the Klondike Donut is simply a Klondike Bar with less Klondike. The ice cream bar is still square-shaped, but simply sans a t

March 1st, 2020. Rebellion Donuts have long been one of my frequent shops in the Noblesville area, being the only donutry that has managed to nail both creative toppings and a good donut beneath them. I went up with my Mom on a Sunday morning after delivering some cardboard to the local recycling drop-off. It's become a ritual for us every few months. Today I specifically wanted to get myself my favorite Rebellion donut: the M&M Topped yeast donut. Ostensibly made for children visiting with their parents, I simply can't enough enough of this thing.  Rebellion's Yeast donut recipe has a few qualities I deeply respect and seldom find: they're enormous, puffy pastries that don't feel *too* airy thanks to a certain chewiness. The outside of the donut is flaky and flavorful, never greasy.  On this particular offering, the chocolate icing is not too strong in flavor. Honestly, many donut makers used canned chocolate icing that is trying too hard. Doe

February 28th, 2020. My coworker Michael brought Rise 'n Roll donuts into work for us to try. The bakery chain - originally from northern Indiana, and originally Amish - opened as part of one of the fancy new developments in Fishers. I'd never been, personally, but always welcome a new donut experience. My preference when trying a new bakery is to try a traditional glazed and whatever happens to be that baker's "specialty." The problem with Rise 'n Roll is that they do not sell traditional glazed donuts, and their unique offerings are all nut or peanut based. I have a serious nut and peanut allergy, and thus could not take part in either of my usual fair tasting techniques. I settled for a chocolate iced as well as a caramel iced. The donut itself is a reasonably sized pastry - a 'two per cup of coffee' kind of treat. It isn't puffed up in size like many yeast, but it isn't dense to the point where it might seem like a cake do