A Big Breadhole Down at the Donut Factory

A Big Breadhole Down at the Donut Factory

October 2016: I flee from an awful call center job into the warm embrace of a cushy job filing and arguing insurance claims on repossessed vehicles to mitigate loss for subprime lending entities. Most of my coworkers are fellow big insurance carrier expats looking for a position that would use their knowledge base without the punishing corporate culture of most major carriers. Geico? Liberty Mutual? Progressive? Everyone's overriding goal seems to be avoiding the pain in the ass bureaucratic morass of corporate America as much as possible. They also share a lot of communal sweets. I fit in.

2017: I discover White House Donuts, bringing them in each Wednesday to share with coworkers. I rise quickly through the ranks at the company and became a respected and accomplished employee. For a time, I like it. I am good at it. I develop a reputation for sharing doughnuts and Oreos.

2018:  Coworkers suggest different bakeries for me to try. Long's donuts, Titus, Jack's Donuts. I have Dunkin' for the first time in years. I come to learn that the perfect compliment to a fresh donut is shitty awful coffee brewed in a dirty communal office carafe. The kind of tar strong enough to make a man forget the ethical quandaries of his mundane profession. Who knew? 

2019: I move desks next to a coworker, Steve, who lives down the street from White House Donuts and shares a similar donut disposition. We enjoy casual discussions about fried dough minutia. Dr. Breadhole starts forming.

2020: My supervisor, also a Steve, recommends I try Tim's Bakery, out in McCordsville. The Pandmic hits. I start working from home. Without coworkers or family to share them with, donuts lose their appeal.

May 27 ^th 2020: After three months of interviews and much contemplation, I accept a new position elsewhere and submit my two weeks notice.

Two weeks to wrap up my most important unfinished business.

Donut Holes, etc. | Tim's Bakery

June 9^th, 2020: Most mornings I wake up when Baby Breadhole does, no earlier. We share breakfast while my wife (who hates donuts) prepares for her day, after which I sit at my desk and work for eight hours. This morning I get up earlier than both of them with purpose. I take a pleasant drive into the sunny central Indiana morning to buy my first donuts in over three months.

Tim's is a solid twenty minutes from Breadhole Manor. Ten minutes due east, ten minutes due south. McCordsville is the type of town that still shows some rural age in the architecture despite being connected to several nice suburbs. Tim's is in an older building - it opened 25 years ago - standalone, with a great sign out front. You can't miss it.

This is my first time driving farther than twenty minutes from my house since March..

Tim's currently has a strict 5-customer limit inside the building with scotch tape marks on the floor to indicate proper social distancing. The employees are wearing masks and gloves, as am I. Their selection is pretty standard for a bakery their size. Glazed, Iced (Strawberry / Vanilla / Chocolate), a plethora of twists, a few creme-filled delights. Nothing as decadent as Rebellion or other novelty topping shops, and nowhere near the abundant absurdity of old Mr. Ronnie down in Houma. No problem. I'm only here for one item: the donut holes.

I order a dozen. Stop myself. I'm not ordering for an office anymore. Just me.

The oblong confections don't even feign spherical. These wouldn't fit in the center of a regular donut. They're free-form treats covered in glaze. Puffy, chewy, but not too yeasty. Extremely sweet.

Baby Breadhole eats his in a single chipmunk-cheek bite and screams when I refuse to give him another.

Tim's Bakery Donut Holes are too large to pop half-dozen into my mouth as an appetizer for my other selections, but I can imagine them surely disappearing over the course of a morning in a regular office environment. Should such a thing ever return.

I also order a chocolate iced glazed, a blueberry cake, and a buttermilk cake. Each is good: the chocolate icing is nothing special, but the donut itself is similar to the donut holes. The blueberry is a tad too far on the sugary-sweet end without enough tartness to cut through the cake. Few bakers get it right.

The buttermilk cake is a perfect multi-textured coffee dipping stick.

Would go great with some of that old office percolator spit.