Donuts Save Lives

Originally published on TasteTalks.com in 2016

Growing up, donuts were something that brought my family together. A couple dozen from Dunkin Donuts was a Sunday treat on the way to the shore, and a few Entenmann’s donuts dunked in coffee was our Wednesday night tradition. Now, I consider myself an artisan donut connoisseur in the making. 

My first bite into the beautiful craftsmanship that is a freshly made donut was at the Doughnut Plant in 2009. My 13 year old self was amazed, and a new obsession was born. I couldn’t get enough; I didn’t understand that there was an entire world of custom food that didn’t come from chains and grocery stores. But it would take years for this interest to peak and realize its true potential. 

Crunching a deadline

I didn’t fully understand my relationship with donuts until my freshman year of college. I was a bright eyed journalism student in a new city with new people. Just a few weeks into my first semester, I was assigned to “cover an event”. Broad topic, right? I sat at my computer for hours trying to find something that sparked my interest. I had just moved to Boston, and my Googling skills proved my lack of knowledge with the city. But just as I was about to settle for a book talk at the Boston Public Library, my eyes came across the SoWa Open Market. 

The next day, I walked twenty minutes in the hot, Boston sun to be surrounded by local vendors. My interviews were lacking, and the heat was getting to me. I was contemplating my decision to go away for college and pursue a major I had no prior experience in. That was when I saw it– Union Square Donuts. I beelined for the small tent advertising these large, handcrafted treats.

When I was handed my sugar raised donut, all time stood still. It was as if someone just handed me the key to my future. I sat on a stoop and enjoyed my donut that I said I was saving for later, as I gazed around at the market, allowing the idea of food writing to slowly snowball in my mind.

Fighting unemployment

Leaving Boston the summer after my freshman year was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. I had fully adjusted to life on my own in a place that wasn’t New Jersey, and frankly, I was enjoying it. Being ripped out of this environment and thrown back into my old one was weird, but coming back to Boston after a summer away was even weirder- especially since I was unemployed. 

I didn’t work at all freshman year. I was living off of savings bonds and graduation money instead of saving that and making more. So by the time I got back to school in the fall, my bank account was dwindling down to nothing, savings from my summer job barely holding me afloat. After being in Boston for a month, I was getting restless with my lack of job offerings (and my picky preferences). My last option was at an ice cream stand in the newly opened Boston Public Market. My interview was at 8 am on a Thursday morning- dreadful. To give myself a boost of confidence I stopped at a local coffee shop to experience one of their famous “Donut Thursday” donuts. This blackberry basil lime donut was my way of congratulating myself on attempting to get a job. The best part was I actually got the job then and there. It was a good thing I bought another donut for the walk home. 

Deciding my future

One of the most frustrating things as a journalist is figuring out where you belong in your field. I started college thinking I would pursue entertainment broadcast, but now I find myself dwelling in coffee shops for hours, studying agriculture, and writing about that stuff. This path I am now pursuing was right in front of my eyes the whole time…literally. 

Working in the Boston Public Market was an amazing opportunity. I socialized with local vendors, learned about business, and worked across from Union Square Donuts. I would spend my shifts watching the donuts sit in the case, and hoping no one would buy them so I could take the leftovers home for free. And it was during one of these hypnotizing daydreams I realized that I should be writing about food. 

My career path placement test in high school told me I would thrive in hospitality and agriculture. At the time, this confused me. But looking back, it all makes sense. Every job I’ve ever had was in food service. I consider food to be an artform- I love making it, buying it, and sharing it. Food is how I express love and comfort. Donuts were my way into my future the entire time and I didn’t even realize.

When family comes to visit me in Boston, I always take them to the newest donut shop. My Instagram is packed with pictures of my glazed goodies of the past, while my feed is streaming fresh ones every day. I give donuts as gifts, as forms of affection. And I receive them as such as well. Donuts made me realize my love for shopping local (although a nice chocolate iced with sprinkles from Dunkin isn’t the worst thing every now and then). I have a past with donuts. They represent my interest in food, culture, and human interaction. My whole life I was consuming my golden ticket to an engaging lifestyle, never realizing it could actually be my career. They made me who I am today, and I wouldn’t trade that for a thing. Even a cupcake.