Long long ago when the Tearoom was still a building site my Ma stopped one day at a shop to get the workers some donuts.
These were not your average donut. They were baked by Amish people from some remote country location and are the size of a small saucepan.
Anyway she never did taste them as the workers scoffed them all but she told dad about them. He likes donuts so he asked her to bring him some. Often when she passed by the shop she stopped to get them but they were always sold out. That is until yesterday when she score the last three giants.
We had them this morning.
Dad said they were disappointing. « No jam »
You can’t please him!
I said they were delicious and helped him eat his. It was walnut. By the time I’d finished helping him herself had wolfed hers totally. Not so much as a crumb left.
There’s one sitting waiting for the bro that I’m hoping he’ll share.
In the meantime I’ll have a snooze to digest. A good carb rush does me in. Just as well my favorite spot is a perfect fit for my body.