It’s probably been years since I slipped out of a convenience store with a package of mini chocolate donuts in my hands. After paying, of course. If you ever have to go IN to the gas station store when buying gas (or maybe a lottery ticket?) you always pass those black wire sturdy stands with displays of mini crumb cakes, cupcakes, powdered mini donuts, and chocolate-iced mini donuts.
I love those little chocolate donuts. But I tell myself I’m not allowed to eat them because they’re made of junky ingredients and I don’t need the extra empty calories and I better stick to eating good stuff. Instead.
But once in a while I fall off the wagon. Usually on long road trips when there’s a feeling of “anything goes” in the air. At each gas station stop I might buy a bag of potato chips or a package of strawberry twizzlers or the chocolate-iced mini donuts. Or–(and I’m not trying to shock you) a Slim Jim.
I remember when I lived in the Bronx I once caved and bought a package of the donuts at a local grocery store. (I was probably stressed about something to put me over the edge of donuts.) I ate them on the 5-block walk home. I kept the donut package in the plastic grocery bag and took one out at a time (like I was afraid a passing car would actually see what I was eating)… until I had eaten 3. I convinced myself that 3 minis equaled 1 regular-sized donut and then threw the rest of them away.
The other night I caved again (must be about 7-8 years since last cave…could even be that walk-in-the-Bronx cave). This time a whimsical “c’est la vie” got me. I ate the whole package. One at a time. And with a glass of milk.
And they were really good. (How can that be? They’re really good!)
We just had a snow storm here in Nashville. And I wouldn’t even make pancakes. That comforting breakfast when the snow is piled up over 6 inches and you can’t go out and you’re looking for cozy. No, I wouldn’t even make pancakes.
But last week I ate the donuts. One daring thrill at a time.