The donut is king in my country. There’s Country Style Donuts, Tim Horton’s, 7-11, Robin’s Donuts and Mac’s — a range of donut pushers varying in quality and price. That’s right, pushers. Donuts are a shot to the Canadian identity. You can’t bump into someone who hasn’t thought of or just eaten a donut.
I use to work at an engineering company and the biggest event was birthday donuts. HR thought it brilliant to combine everybody’s birthday for that month and spring for several boxes of timbits. They never got creative, never deviated from the plan, yet like clockwork employees piled into the lunch room and grabbed their donut portion.
It got to the point I avoided donut day, my cholesterol levels and hip circumference just couldn’t take it any longer and to introduce something radical such as cupcakes was forbidden, downright controversial.
Lately though, I feel nostalgic for the donut. My sinful one: Boston Cream. A conservative choice: plain with glaze on the top.
The beauty of the Canadian donut is how universal it is, every facet of society consumes them, not just the pot bellied cops, but firemen, executives, postal clerks and truck drivers (really, you aren’t a truck driver with street cred unless you have a relationship with a donut).