A few weeks ago I got it in my head that I needed to learn to make sour cream cake donuts. What followed was a flurry of research, mixing, and frying. I still haven’t gotten the recipe exactly right, but I’m getting closer.

Smack in the middle of my cake donut craze, my husband and I received an invitation to take over the donut making production for the Virginia Mennonite Relief Sale. The couple currently in charge has been filling the position for the past 17 years. We said we may—may—be interested, so one evening not too long ago, they sat down with us to explain just what, exactly, the job entailed. This is the summary:

1. Make 14,000 donuts in 12 hours.
2. Oversee 120 volunteers.
3. Pull one all-nighter.

We thought about it for several days and then said yes.

And then I embarked on a quest to tweak my yeast donut recipe. (Actually, I started making donuts before we even said yes. I was fired up.)

The relief sale’s donut-making system is a tight, streamlined affair. The couple who has been running the show are absolute geniuses in efficiency. This—their delightful practicality—was part of the reason we were so drawn to the job. The other reason was that we will get to work with a broad range of volunteers, from conservative Mennonites grandmas to tatted teens and everything between. It’s bound to be a fascinating experience. Delicious, too.

We want our recipe to be similar in taste and texture to the ones we normally make (and not wildly different from the ones that relief sale goers are accustomed to). Also, the recipe needs to smoothly convert to ginormous batches and make use of the available equipment. In other words, we don’t want to complicate things, but we want the recipe to be ours.

So now I have a folder for my donut-making experiments and notes. I have dramatically reduced our standard recipe (which is only one-fourth of a single recipe of the relief sale donuts, yikes!) to facilitate experimentation. I’ve been researching the science of donut making and refreshing my understanding of the purpose for different ingredients. I’m not taking anything for granted, and, as a result, we’ve been eating a lot of donuts.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (12.1.14), Thanksgiving of 2013, Friday variety, Mom’s new and improved cabbage salad, beef bourguignon, and potatoes in cream with gruyere.

This year we celebrated Thanksgiving in Chattanooga at my husband’s sister’s family’s house.

My husband’s brother’s family from Upstate New York also made the (grueling) trip down. So we were three families, eighteen people in all.

Our hosts knocked themselves out making us comfortable. They gave up all their bedrooms, and each family got their own bathroom. There was a hot beverage bar complete with hot chocolate mix, mini marshmallows, flavored creamers, and a steady supply of candy canes. All mugs, wine glasses, and regular drinking glasses were labeled with each person’s name. The whole setup was the epitome of thoughtfulness and efficiency.

Our three families were among the thousands participating in Chattanooga’s Grateful Gobbler Run on Thursday morning. I’ve never run with that many people before, and it was so entertaining that it felt like the race was over before it even started. The race was a great introduction to the city—such a friendly, active, and community-oriented town!—and a fun way to kick off Thanksgiving. I’m thinking a Thanksgiving 5K is a tradition worth keeping.

The next day we walked a few miles on the Tennessee River Walk, roasted hot dogs, and then the adults went out while the kids stayed home and texted us pictures of them icing cookies (and themselves) and cleaning some random bloody liver out of the fridge while wearing gloves to prevent a possible Ebola contamination. We first went to The Southside Social for the long-promised whiskey slushies (and then we noticed the staff was wearing WTF shirts, so we asked, “Um, WTF?” and they were like, “Where’s the fireball, dude,” so then of course we had to try the Fireball whiskey, too). After that, we hit up a lovely sushi bar before heading to the Flying Squirrel for their award-winning cocktail that tasted like shellac and was about as drinkable. Too bad we ordered five of them.

Other things that happened: multiple sessions of Take One, a speaker phone conversation with The Grands, a simultaneous skype session with the West Coast and Hong Kong families, front-yard sports, movies, card games, and lots of eating, cooking, and cleaning up.

Saturday morning on our way out of town, our family stopped at Krispy Kreme to goggle at the production line, sip the free mocha shots, and order a bunch of donuts for the trip back. Four hundred and seventy-five miles, multiple bathroom stops, and a bunch of hamburgers later, and we were home.

The end.

This same time, years previous: in my kitchen: 7:35 a.m., the day before, the quotidian (11.25.13), a treat, kale pomegranate salad, Thanksgiving of 2012, monster cookies, pot of red beans, Thanksgiving of 2011, peppermint lip balm, butternut squash pesto cheesecake, Thanksgiving of 2010, and apple chutney.

We’re gearing up for the Thankfully long weekend holiday. Our family is heading to Chattanooga where we have big plans to run the Turkey Gobbler race on Thanksgiving morning and drink whiskey slushies in the evening. I spent yesterday cooking my contributions to the weekend: French chocolate granola, the various components for two apple crumb pies (to be assembled and baked there), plain granola, and caramel popcorn. By evening I felt sickish from too many tastes. 

About those apple crumb pies. I’ve always been a sucker for a two-crust apple pie—up until now, it’s been my standby. But a few weeks ago I decided I simply must have an apple crumb pie. Not having one in my repertoire felt like a moral shortcoming of unforgivable proportions. After a bit of digging around, I settled on this recipe. (I’m not sure where it is from. Perhaps Epicurious? Do forgive.)

What’s delightful about this topping is that the crumbs don’t melt into a lid of slimy sog. Perhaps this is because the topping calls for lots of nuts which help the topping hold up against the satiny apples and crispy-golden pastry. At first, some of my kids turned up their noses about the nuts, but I kept making the pies (I think I’ve made about six so far) and eventually they got over their silly hang-ups.

I never thought I would say this about a pie, but I actually think this one is better after it sits for a day or so. It gets deeper, or something. More luscious, but in a comforting sort of way. In other words, make two. Apple pie makes an excellent breakfast.

Apple Crumb Pie 

I always make two pies at time, so I double the crumb topping. Even if you’re only making one pie, I recommend doubling the crumbs. They freeze well, and then your next pie is that much closer to becoming a reality.

To measure your apples, slice them into the empty pie plate. The apples will cook down in the oven, so the raw apples ought to mound up high above the plate. Once you have enough apples, dump the slices into a bowl, rinse and dry the pie plate, and proceed with the recipe.

for the pastry:
½ recipe rich butter pastry

Line a 9 or 10-inch pie plate with the pastry and crimp the edges. Place the lined pie plate in the fridge while readying the remaining components.

for the filling:
5-8 large apples, cored, peeled, and sliced
½ to ¾ cup white sugar
2-3 tablespoons flour
1 slightly rounded teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon cloves

Stir together the flour, sugar, and spices before tossing with the apples. Arrange the apples into the pastry-lined pie plate. Pack them in—you want to eliminate air pockets and mound the apples high. 

for the crumb topping:
½ cup all-purpose flour
¼ cup whole wheat pastry flour
½ cup sugar
¼ cup brown sugar
¾ cup chopped walnuts
6 tablespoons butter
¼ teaspoon salt

Using your fingers, cut the butter into the other ingredients. Distribute the crumbs over the apples (don’t pack them).

Bake the pie on the lowest oven rack (to make sure the bottom crust browns) at 375 degrees for about 20 minutes before reducing the temperature to 350 degrees and baking for another 20-30 minutes. If the crust starts to get too brown, cover the top with foil. The pie is done when it is golden brown all over and the juices are bubbling merrily. (Merrily bubbling juices are important. If the juices don’t bubble, then the flour in the filling won’t cook and the pie will taste floury.) When you first pull the pie from the oven, it will be puffy high, but as it cools, the apples will settle and sink.

This same time, years previous: apple raisin bran muffins, how to use up Thanksgiving leftovers in 10 easy steps, sock curls, candid crazy, a Thanksgiving walk, ushering in the fun, right now, pasta with creamy pumpkin sauce, apple rum cake, chocolate pots de crème, and pumpkin pie.