these 'nuts.

vegan donuts?
yes, please.
slow rising double-yeast activated sugared fluff bombs?
you bet.
and how long will it be before they're ready?
hours, and hours, and hours.
like,
start mixing and resting,
and beating and resting,
and rolling and resting yesterday, even, if you want 'em today.
so,
like, is that even worth it?
don't be dumb, neighbors.
of course it's worth it.
check the teleport:

homemade super-fancy unnecessary fried fat pills from the future;
concentric circles of echoing excellence infinitely filling and fulfilling;
lofty lumps of doughy dopeness, with that golden exterior and that soft inner truth;
maybe i'm understating it?
lemme try once again-
vegan mutha-F*ing donuts!!!
!!!
...yep.
i doo-doo that morning glorious style freaky sh!t.
and what's more,
i don't get lazy when it comes to decorating.
that's because i know the rules-
too much is the right amount:

expert!
powdered freeze-dried fruits and confectioners sugar, with a hint of lemon;
confectioners sugar and vanilla;
straight up powdered jauns;
and chocolate frosted ganache goodness,
with sprankles sprinkling it up in all their resplendent refractory sparkle magic.
hmmm?
well, yeah,
those ARE different spranks on each flavor.
obvi.
i mean, what am i?
an A*-hole?
c'mon, man.
you know me better than that, by now, don'tcha?
plus, they're all already pretty elite all on their own-
with sliced strawberry on the strawberry frosted,
and dark purple sticky drips on the inaptly named blueberry frosted.
and i got glazed for days, (if you were to eat one a day for four days)
not to mention the pow-pow powdered ones,
and the cutest little donut nuggies, a.k.a. holes, a.k.a. munchkins.
AND broken crullers, with look like cat turd twists,
but taste just as good as all the rest.
-
duders,
i ate one of each,
and most of the nuggies,
and maybe a couple more of each after that.
uh-huh.
digestive destruction designs of the donutty overindulgence type.
damn, if that didn't taste like five kinds of heaven inside my face,
even though it felt like fifty shades of fat pig inside my bellyhole.
i'm about that life, i guess.
***********
food is consuming my thoughts.
ha.
that's real.
and i'm consuming allllll of the food.
i can't tell if it's a problem,
or if the problem is that there're a whole lot of other things distracting me
from making and eating more food.
there's tattooing;
there's yard working;
there's art-making;
there's writing, and watching, and learning-
and NONE of that is cooking.
there's more going on than i want,
and far less happening of what i enjoy-
the hard styles and the long hours of doing what needs doing
are interfering with the hot fire and the forks and knives
of my Folk Life love affair with good times in the test kitchen.
y'know?
awwwwwwwwwwww.
there's more of all of it,
except for the treats.
every bite leaves me with less of those,
and more meaty mass in my midsection.
blarping out and fattening up is always looming alongside the last morsel
of every massive meal.
however, i ask you-
what the F* is portion control?
....i think it's what wimpy weak-sauce diaper babies care about.
that's probably true;
never quiet, never soft.....