Time To Eat The Donuts

Living in Massachusetts puts me smack dab in the middle of Dunkin Donuts central, where home to the corporate donut and coffee conglomerate can be found right here in Canton, MA. Today, Dunkin Donuts boasts over 8ooo franchises in 30 countries, with about 5800 locations in the USA. Not bad for a little donut shop that first opened in 1950 in Quincy, MA by a man named William Rosenberg.

The Dunkin Donuts I speak of today is not the modern day Dunkin Donuts that "America runs on", but the one of my childhood. Last night, I saw their new TV commercial, which hails quality family time spent enjoying luscious donuts together. It made me think of my late, beloved Grandfather. Being the last in a line of five, I was not yet of school age and the only one left at home every morning when my Grampa would come and visit us armed with a box of Dunkin Donuts. Come to think of it, I can't ever remember a time when Grampa didn't come through the door carrying the pink and white donut box. It was our morning ritual. Sticky, sugar covered Jelly donuts were my favorite as a kid, with a "honey dipped" or glazed donut running a close second. Grampa and I would sit at the kitchen table, he with his coffee and me with my milk, eating, talking and enjoying the moment together. Those were some of the happiest times of my life and I adored him.

Grampa was truly my best friend. He would watch me every morning while my mom would go run errands for an hour or so, and I harldy knew she was gone. After our donut, we would do fun things like wash pennies. Grampa would get a can of Comet, a bowl of water and an SOS pad. He then would take a bunch of pennies and change from his jingling pocket and it became our mission to get them as shiny and clean as possible. The pennies, almost always revealing the most dramatic change. Of course, Grampa let me keep all the change when we were done. Those days for me, came pretty close to perfection.

I thought about my children's grandparents and how on a Sunday morning visit they occasionally arrived carrying a pink and white box, much to my children's delight. I thought about the kids, after an early morning game or a school hour dentist appointment, requesting a stop at "Dunkies" which always resulted in a purchase of multiple chocolate frosted donuts which then produced multiple smiles. The TV ad had done exactly what it was intended to do. It evoked an emotional response to the national brand and it's signature product. Knowing what we know about nutrition and food additives today, it probably puts the donut on the "top ten worst food violators" list for sure. But somehow I think the reward of an occasional donut with the kids outweighs the risk.

Dunkin Donuts just may have got their money's worth with this latest ad campaign. When I go to visit my brother and his kids this weekend, you can bet that as I walk into his house, I'll be carrying a pink and white box.

For Troll

For those of you not familiar with my blogger friend Troll, today's post is dedicated to his passion for a magnificent creature whom he hails as, "the greatest athlete of all time."

Sir Troll, author of the thought provoking blog, The Troll Report where, "The Troll-In-Chief maintains the right to rant about putrid rap "music" rave about new culinary concepts and write brilliantly about all sorts of interesting stuff.", extols his wisdom daily to us mere mortals who had not the benefit of being reared under a bridge, as he did.
I consider this post my penance for "tricking" (as he described it) Troll into thinking a previous horse related post on the Daily Dandy was my birthday tribute to his favorite subject. Ever true to Chef Troll and to my word, allow me to tell you a story about a horse.


Thirty-nine years ago today, on March 30, 1970, a bright red chestnut colt with three white socks, was born in Virginia to a mare named Somethingroyal and the great racing stallion, Bold Ruler. Born and bred to race, "Big Red", as he was dubbed, spent his time as a yearling, still unnamed. It would take 11 submissions to the Jockey Club by the Meadow Stables secretary, Elizabeth Ham, until a name Ham picked herself was approved; Secretariat.

He entered into his horse racing debut on July 4, 1972 at Aqueduct. Although he went in as a favorite, he ended up finishing fourth in the race. It would only take Secretariat eleven days later to become a champion. He then won the next 5 races in a row, including three important stakes races for a two-year old, his only other defeat as a two-year old, coming in a disqualification in the Champagne Steaks at Belmont. Those seven magnificent victories in nine races that year resulted in his being voted Horse of the Year.

The world soon had a new superstar and Secretariat mania was everywhere. Time, Newsweek and Sports Illustrated all featured the horse on the cover the same week. Major talent agencies booked Secretariat appearances as if he were a top box office movie star, but at the time no movie star could match his fan appeal.

"This red horse with blue and white blinkers and silks seemed to epitomize an American hero,' said owner Penny Chenery."

Then, and just as his legend was hitting a fervor peak, he solidified his unmatched champion status on June 9th 1973, when he became the first horse in 25 years to win the biggest contest in all of horse racing; the Triple Crown. In true legendary form, he not only won by 31 lengths, he shattered the previous record held by Citation's 1948 Triple Crown. So impressive, so dominant was his win, it is documented;

"It was so big, even the widest angle of the CBS camera covering the stretch run could barely show Secretariat in the same shot as the next-nearest horse, Twice A Prince. As Charles Hatton wrote in The Daily Racing Form, "His only point of reference is himself."

In a most memorable career that lasted a mere 16 months, the great Secretariat won 16 times in 21 starts, finishing in the money in every race except his first; his career earnings totaling $1,316,808. By his retirement in 1973, he had won back-to-back horse of the year awards.

"As former Pimlico general manager Chick Lang said, "He looked like a Rolls-Royce in a field of Volkswagens."

Listed by ESPN at number 35 of the 100 Greatest Athletes of the 20th Century, the highest of the three non-humans on the list, he will always be remembered as one the sports greatest, his name synonymous with horse racing.
The superstar athlete was euthanized on Oct. 4, 1989. Upon his death his owner remarked, "He wasn't just the greatest horse I ever had, he was the greatest horse anybody ever had."


Both this article and this contributed to this report.

PMS or Pretty Much Sensational

Frankly, I'm in a bit of a mood today...and I like it.

I can't say exactly why; (probably because my lower back is sore and I'm craving chocolate), but it could just be the influence of the moon's rising sun or some other crap like that. When I'm feeling like this it's not necessarily a bad thing, and by that I mean I'm not bitchy in a nasty mood kind of way. It's more like I have an edge about me. A razor sharp edge that somehow works in my favor.

No, today I feel good. Almost too good because the mood inhibitors are giving me a swagger. I very rarely get like this, but when the mood strikes, I feel compelled to go with it. I'm liking the reflection I see in the mirror and that nasty old bitch is liking me right back. This is the kind of feeling that could get me into trouble. Of course, the trouble I speak of would never happen because I'm far too smart and far too old for that kind of stuff, but no harm in workin' it, if you know what I'm sayin....So I'll wear it today as my badge of courage.

It's reflected in my attire: slimming designer jeans: check. A tight fitting top that accentuates my womanly assets in all the right places: check. Hair and make-up; done just so: check. My sexy recessional purchase wedge shoes I told you about: check. (yeah, today was just the day to break those babies out) The complete view from behind: check plus! (at least in my mind)

I was thinking this morning about an exchange I had with a guy I knew in high school. His name was Rick and he was the leader of the "Stoner crew". They were the tough guys that nobody messed with, and were just dangerous enough to stay away from. Rick and his crew held court out in the shared smoking area outside our school. I was a part of the "coolie crew" or the jocks as they are called, and we were on complete opposite sides of the social spectrum. For some reason, Rick took a small liking to me. I'm sure it had something to do with the fact that I was never easily intimidated by him and that I never cowered to his bullying, always quick with a smart ass comeback to his domination tactics. Regardless, our social groups co-existed in that tiny area with minimal interaction.

One day Rick decided to make a proclamation, in front of his friends and mine when he announced to everyone, "One day, Candy (insert my last name here) I predict you will be starring in a ZZ Top video." Everyone sort of just laughed slyly and I'm sure I threw back some quick, sharp comeback because at the time, as I was only slightly familiar with ZZ Top and their music, my being a "pop princess" and all and I was more than a little annoyed at his suggestion that my life's ambition would be to star in a music video. It wasn't until later that I realized that Rick had paid me the highest form of a compliment in his world.
I never forgot it, and on days like this, I recall it to memory. A visual aid to explain my swagger, so to speak.

So take this as my offering to go and get your "swagger on". I hope it inspires you to put a little bit of that sometimes necessary edge in your step.

And God help My Guy tonite, cuz it's date night and after all that has been said here today, HELL YEAH, you can bet I know how to use them!

Today I Celebrate You

Today I celebrate you because 13 years ago today, at 9:10 am you came into my life and made me complete; all 9lbs. and 11 oz's of you. Although I never found out that You were You ahead of time, I already knew when You arrived that You were You. My response to, "It's a boy!" was, "Yes, I know".

Today I celebrate you for the years of joy you have brought me. Your kind heart and your tender ways make me proud each day to call you my own.

Today I celebrate you for having goals and dreams. As for your dream of one day becoming a Longhorn, I will do whatever I can to aid you in achieving that goal. So if I push you to work to your potential in school, please know that together we share in those victories; each bringing you one step closer to the school of your dreams. I won't let you down, ever. I will be here to remind you that if you give up your dreams, you have nothing.

Today I celebrate you for each of the special gifts you have received from God. That at 2 years old, when the world came calling, we watched you swing a golf club in awe and we traveled around the country sharing your unique story. I celebrate that through the years, as you remained top dog on the course, you watched the others around you getting bigger and better, till one day they caught up to you. I watched you lose with dignity and work harder to maintain your edge, learning at a young age that perfection is not a constant, but a gift to be valued. Hard lessons for a little boy to swallow, yet you maintained hard work and dedication as the key to your success and that humility keeps you honest.

Today I celebrate you for your love of the underdog and your stubbornness that usually finds you on the unpopular side of an issue. Your ability to maintain your stance when opposed never ceases to amaze, infuriate and inspire me.

Today I celebrate you for your athletic prowess. It is true, that if it involves a stick and a ball, you are in. It is so much a part of who you are, that as an infant you would instinctually put your beloved "blankie" on the floor and hit plastic pacifier out of it, as if they were golf balls buried deep in a bunker at Augusta. I celebrate along with you when you raise your stick on the ice after scoring a goal and that you picked up a Lacrosse stick for the first time this year and yet you play like you have been playing for years. I celebrate most the enjoyment of watching you experience your love of the game; any game, as long as you can somehow be a part of it and I share in your pride when grown men marvel with envy at the beauty of your golf swing.

Today I celebrate you as my protector and friend. The one who quietly watches over me when things get tough and would give me the last piece of bacon on his plate if I asked. When My Guy is out of town, I know that you quietly watch out for your sister and I, as you assume your position as man of the house.

Today I celebrate that although you will always be my baby, that you are no longer a baby at all, and already almost as tall as I am. That you are growing and changing into a man before my eyes, yet you still allow me to hug and kiss you just as I did when you were little. Thank you for allowing me to shower you with affection, somehow knowing that I may need it more than you.

Today I celebrate you; my son, my life.

I love you. I cannot thank you enough for the gift of you.

Happy Birthday

Internet Sensation Syndrome

Have you seen this?

Neil Berrett, 23, of San Fransisco, used a sheet cake to present to his boss as his letter of resignation.

"Berrett, a 23-year-old environmental data analyst, became an Internet sensation this month by inscribing the following upbeat resignation letter on a vanilla and Bavarian cream cake:

Dear Mr. Bowers:
During the past three years, my tenure at the Hunters Point Naval Shipyard has been nothing short of pure excitement, joy and whim.
However, I have decided to spend more time with my family and attend to health issues that have recently arisen. I am proud to have been part of such an outstanding team and I wish this organization only the finest in future endeavors.
Please accept this cake as notification that I am leaving my position with NWT on March 27.

Sincerely,
W. Neil Berrett"

Berrett posted the picture on a Flickr photo-sharing site, which was then picked up and posted on the pop culture web site Boing Boing. The story then went on to become a sensation on foodie blogs and was picked up internationally by the Norwegian Newspaper Dagbladet and the Telegraph of London.

Berrett's Flickr page received over 200,000 visitors since the story broke and according to reports, some of the visitors were inquiring about how to apply for his old job. He even received a "lighthearted marriage proposal".

This got me thinking about the Internet Sensation Syndrome. Because of the media attention caused by Berrett's "sweet resignation", I wonder what other possibilities lie ahead for Mr. Berrett and if Mr. Berrett realized that his creative thinking could have possibly changed his life. In this media age, where fame is fast and fleeting, what other avenues could his new-found fame lead Berrett down?

Berrett reportedly quit his job to pursue his dream of becoming a professional photographer. Since a photo started it all, is there a dream job as a photographer waiting for him at Cuisine Magazine? It certainly gives him a jump to the head of the line with prospective employers. Will he meet the woman of his dreams? Sweet, thoughtful, optimistic and easily accessible, Berrett has unwittingly positioned himself to be open to offers. Will cake companies and bakeries realize the potential of an untapped market and begin a new line of resignation and resume cakes? Will they pay Berrett big bucks to be the spokesperson? Only time will tell as the offers come pouring in.

Berrett reported that his boss was "surprised" by his resignation but that eating the cake seemed to improve everyone's mood. One thing's for sure; he "raised the bar" when it comes to leaving your job on good terms.

Today's Special: Potato Gnocchi

Gnocchi have taken their place amongst gourmet foodies as their pasta of choice and, believe it or not, they are not difficult to make. The key to these "pillow soft" gnocchi is to knead the dough as least as possible so that they do not become tough and "gluey".

This recipe comes courtesy of Saveur Magazine and are the brain-child of chef Barbara Lynch of Sportello Restaurant in Boston.

FOR THE GNOCCHI:
1 lb. russet potatoes (about 2), unpeeled
1 1⁄4 cup flour, plus more for dusting
3⁄4 tsp. kosher salt
1 tbsp. truffle oil
1 egg, beaten

Boil the potatoes in salted water until tender, about 20 minutes. (I used 3 potatoes, as they weren't large in size)


Drain the potatoes and set aside to slightly cool.


The potatoes will be soft enough to peel the skin off easily.

The recipe called for the potatoes to be worked through a "food mill or a potato ricer", but I used my food processor, being careful not to "over process", then transfer onto a floured surface.

Sprinkle the flour and salt over the potatoes and mix together with hands.

Forming a mound with the dough, create a well in the center.

Add the truffle oil and the egg into the well.

Gently knead the dough together to combine, adding a small amount of flour when dough becomes sticky, until your dough is complete. Do not over knead.

Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper and set aside.

Roll the dough to a 1/2" thick and cut into 1/2" wide strips. Roll the strips between your hands and the floured surface to form ropes, then cut the ropes into 1" pieces.

Working with one piece at a time, roll it down the back of a small fork so that the tines of the fork make ridges on the surface of the dough. This is important to help the sauce "cling" to the cooked gnocchi. Transfer rolled gnocchi to the floured baking sheet. When complete, cover with a kitchen towel and refrigerate until ready to cook.

Bring a 6-quart pot of salted water to a boil and add gnocchi cooking until they float; about 2 minutes.

Barbara's wonderful recipe calls for a delectable cream sauce with green peas and Chanterelle mushrooms (which I bought) and I HIGHLY recommend (see recipe link above), but of course, the crew at my house put the kibosh on the sauce the second they heard the ingredients. I had to go for my quick, famous old stand by, marinara sauce.

Gnocchi is so delicious, it can be served with any type of sauce; bolognese, marinara, pesto, pomodoro or whatever you like.

I chose a quick marinara so that everyone would be happy.

If everything goes as planned your dinner should look like this:

And if you are as good a chef as I think you are, when dinner is over your dish should look like this:

Thank you to Saveur Magazine and Sportello's Chef Barbara Lynch for the recipe for gnocchi-my favorite pasta. Rest assured, I will complete the recipe the way it was intended to be served eventually.

Better yet, I will take a road trip soon to experience your dish at Sportello and to thank you personally.

Good luck bloggers! Bon Appetit!

Be Quiet Enough To Hear God's Whisper

This post is not intended to inspire a religious debate about theory or beliefs, rather than one woman's observations about a ritual that was once a big part of her life.

I decided to go to church yesterday and I was pleasantly surprised when the entire building did NOT disintegrate and fall to the ground. That a large, dark, black, rain cloud did not suddenly appear above the church and that lightning did not strike me down, as I feared it would.

Let's just say that I haven't been to Sunday Mass in a few years, so the fact that I decided to go at all came as a complete surprise to me. I casually threw out an open invitation to come along to the family at breakfast, but was looked upon with horror. Somehow I knew this was going to be a solo mission.

Inspired by my Jewish girlfriend, who (she is dating a "Christian") called me Saturday to tell me that she had gone to Mass and "liked"it, it led me to think about what there was to like at church. Armed with this piqued curiosity, I went to Mass like the "masses" in my town who attend regularly. Upon entering there was music-beautiful, joyous music and singing. Parishioners are invited to join in the singing, as the page number for the hymn is posted for all to see and the hymnal books are at arms reach to your seat. Immediately I was struck by the calm and the quiet. Despite the fact that people were singing and little kids were crying and screaming, I felt a peaceful calm wash over me.

After much sitting and standing and the reciting of prayers that I once had commited to memory, the daily sermon began. It was quiet and I was calm, and had a relaxed feeling I had not experienced in a while. I was at ease and it felt good. I prayed to myself, I sang, if I wanted to, I listened to the sermon, if I wanted to, and took from it what I felt was important and I kneeled before God.

Seated behind me were an elderly couple who hardly registered on my radar until the time came for the ritual offering of peace. As I turned to offer my hand, I witnessed them turn to each other and say, "I love you" they then sealed it with a small kiss. I offered my peace, and turned back, my heart filled with the love I had just witnessed, my smile impenetrable.

I left Mass feeling calm and at peace, resolved to TRY to come back once a week. I decided that church will be that one thing I do for myself. A time for me to collect my thoughts and reflect upon what's next. A time free from cell phones, text messages, computers, email and TV. A time free from screams of "MOM" and barking dogs.

A time for me alone, to experience peace. A time of quiet reflection in my head, where only I can judge and seek answers.