I have some bad news and some good news.First, the bad news: I don’t think we’re going to have a Donut Party this year. I’m so sorry. I am sad about this decision, actually kind of grieved, but also relieved because for some reason both Mr. Handsome and I have felt stressed and tired lately. We’re hoping this decision is for the best.

And now, for the good news: As a small compensation for our failure to carry out our end of the deal (I realize there’s no “deal”, per say, but I know people look forward to this party and count on us to churn out enough donuts for their annual stuff-fest, so I am struggling with some guilt issues), I will share with you the recipe for the donut dough—it’s a keeper.

Maybe you will decide to throw your own donut party? That would make me happy, especially if you send me a token invitation. Or maybe you’ll simply bake up some sweet rolls and stash them away in your freezer for the lean winter months? Go with whatever is less stressful for you; both options are tasty.

Edna Ruth Byler’s Potato Dough
Adapted from the More-with-Less Cookbook.

This is the basic dough recipe from which you can make any number of baked goods, most notably donuts and sweet rolls, but also sticky buns, dinner rolls, raisin bread, coffee cake, and so on.

3 tablespoons yeast
1 cup lukewarm water
4 cups milk, scalded
2 cups mashed potatoes (no milk or salt added)
2 sticks butter
1 ½ cups sugar
14-16 cups bread flour
2 eggs, beaten
2 tablespoons salt

In a small bowl, stir together the yeast and water. Set aside until bubbly.

In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, scald the milk (very hot, but not boiling) and then remove from the heat. Add the butter, stirring periodically until it has melted.

Peel and roughly chop two or three large potatoes and cook (boil or steam) until very tender. Drain well and then, using a hand-held mixer, beat the potatoes until they are silky smooth. Measure out the two cups of potatoes and dump into your very biggest mixing bowl. Add the hot milk and butter. Add the sugar, three cups of the flour, and, once it has cooled to lukewarm, the yeast mixture.

Add the eggs and salt, stir well, and then add the remaining flour. Knead the dough until it is soft and satiny, sprinkle the bowl with flour, and then return the dough to the bowl and cover with a cloth (or plastic wrap) and let rest until it has doubled in volume (about two to four hours).

Donuts
On a well-floured surface, roll out the dough into a big circle about a half-inch thick. Using a large glass (or a big biscuit cutter), periodically dipped in flour, cut out the donuts. Someone else can follow along behind with a small glass (or a small biscuit cutter) cutting out the holes. Lay the donuts and their holes on cookie sheets, leaving some space in between them so they don’t touch each other when they puff up, cover with a large cloth, and let rise until they have grown one-half their size, about one hour. It’s important not to allow them to rise too much because they will be more likely to deflate when handled later on, and remember, they will continue to rise once they hit the hot fat.

Pour a gallon of canola oil into a large kettle and heat it up until piping hot (but never boiling). I don’t go by temperature, so when the oil seems hot enough I plop in one of the donut holes for a test run. It should take about two minutes to fry, one minute on each side. It takes a little finagling to figure out the best oil temperature and frying time, so plan to fry up several small batches before you start frying in bulk.

Using a slotted spoon, remove the fried donuts from the hot fat and immediately dump them into the big bowl of glaze (recipe follows). Coat each side with the glaze and then string them onto wooden spoon handles, dowel rods, or long sturdy sticks and rest the sticks over a large empty bowl or wash tub to let them drip some more. Once the glaze has hardened, transfer them to a cookie rack, a cut-open brown bag, or a serving tray. The donut holes can go straight from the bowl of glaze to the cookie rack.

In the above picture you can (kind of) see here the really nice donut dripper that Mr. Handsome fashioned for me by nailing two boards together and then cutting the rods off of one of our old drying racks, slicing the rods up into pieces and then sticking them at an angle into the back board. All I had to do was set a cookie sheet under the donuts to catch the drips.

Glaze for Donuts
Makes enough for one batch of Edna Byler’s Potato Donuts, plus a little extra.

4 pounds powdered sugar
4 tablespoons butter
4 teaspoons vanilla
1/4 teaspoon mace
milk or cream, enough to make a thin glaze

Sift the powdered sugar. Using your fingers, blend the butter into the sugar. Add the vanilla, mace, and milk, starting with about a half cup and adding more as needed. The glaze should be runny enough that it quickly and smoothly drizzles off the stirring spoon.

This glaze can be made ahead of time and stored, well-covered, in the fridge.

Donuts are best eaten fresh, but if you do find yourself with leftovers, do not be alarmed. Simply pop them into plastic bags and then into the freezer. To thaw, remove the donuts from the bag and set them on a plate. When they have thawed, reheat them in the microwave for about ten seconds.

Ps. The kids are a little sad that we’re not doing the party this year, so as compensation (and to shoo away those nasty guilt feelings) I promised them our own private donut party. Yo-Yo Boy’s primary concern is that he will still be allowed to eat all he wants, and of course I said yes, so he claims he’s going to eat fourteen (I have no idea where that number came from).

Maybe I’ll call up some friends at the last minute—if I do it without thinking, real fast like, then I won’t have time to worry about the weed thicket that’s taking over the garden, the finger smears on the kitchen windows, and the fly specks on the walls and ceiling. Who would notice that stuff anyway if I fling a donut at them as they are pulling into the driveway?

Wait a minute here. I think I just implied that no one would care about my unkempt lawn and dirty house if I flooded them with donuts, which means that we could still have the party without worrying about the house. No no no! I went through this already! The decision is final! (I think.)

For the past three years, Mr. Handsome and I have hosted a Donut Party. The first year we just invited a bunch of friends, but the last two years we ended up (intentionally) inviting the entire church. Let me tell you, it is a huge production: hauling home the industrial pastry cart, cookie sheets, and coffee carafe from the church, as well as several flats of coffee mugs; purchasing about 10 gallons of apple cider from our Mennonite Relief Sale; rigorously cleaning up the property and scrubbing down the house; setting up the outdoor gas stove and the tables (old doors stretched out over sawhorses and covered with tablecloths); and finally, mixing up and frying a half-dozen recipes (the directions say one recipe yields 100 donuts, but I make ’em big) of Edna Byler’s Potato Dough.

In January of 2007, our church did a series on hospitality and I was asked to give my two cents as a response to one of the sermons. This is what I said (some names have been changed, because I didn’t refer to my husband as Mr. Handsome since he did not have that name then, though he was certainly quite fine looking, even back then):

This past fall Mr. Handsome and I invited all the church to come to our house for a donut party. The morning of the party I woke up sick. My head hurt, I had a sore throat, and I was achy and exhausted.

The previous day I had mashed the potatoes for the dough, but now at 5:30 am, as I stood over the bowls of hot milk and butter and sugar and potatoes, I was dismayed to discover that cold mashed potatoes, no matter how creamy they were when hot, stay in little chunks when re-mashed.

Mr. Handsome said we could call the whole thing off, but I rolled my eyes at him and popped some Tylenol for not only my physical aches and pains, but now also my mental anguish.

At four o’clock, right as the cars started driving in, I plopped the first donuts into the hot fat. Immediately I was surrounded. The Serrels, Glanzers, and Stensons, everyone watching and waiting and snatching the donuts up as fast as I could fry and glaze them. I should have started sooner, I realized.

When I finally got a chance to grab a bite, I was horrified. These donuts that were supposed to be so light and tender were squishy inside! I felt sick to my stomach, ashamed and mortified. How could I serve bad food to all these people? I looked at the cars coming, and I desperately willed them to stop.

Mr. Handsome fetched me a drink of the apple cider. Yuck! It hadn’t thawed all the way, so it was all watery and grainy. We should have set the jugs out the night before.

Soon people were returning for seconds. This was a good sign, right? Or were they just eating more so I wouldn’t feel bad? My head was in a sick fog; I couldn’t think rationally. In any case, they were eating them fast—we had to get another kettle going. Gradually things evened out and fell into a rhythm. Shannon quietly assured me that the donuts were just fine. Really. I tried to make myself to believe her. I felt better when some one, I forget who, thought they shouldn’t eat another donut and Elaine loudly declared that she’d eat as many as she could hold. Yo-Yo Boy boasted gleefully that he’d eaten ten.

I looked around. Jamey, Chris, Lee, Eliot, Keith, Nate, and Wayne stood in a row behind me, talking, eating, holding babies, watching everyone. Leah was working steadily alongside me, glazing the donuts. Julie’s mother stood on my other side, discussing frying techniques. Tina was snapping photos. Matt was rocking a sleeping Baby Nickel on the porch. Vi and Sara were chatting by the coffee. Eileen, Jen, and Andrea lounged in lawn chairs, and over at the swings Meg and Gretchen visited while their boys played. The trampoline, loaded with kids, was ringed by adults. More kids were down on the dirt pile in the field, and more people were milling in and out of the house. The sky was blue. It was cold, but no one seemed to mind.

After it got dark, and after everybody drove off, including Hugh and Kathy, the last to leave, who took the last donut with them, Mr. Handsome and I grinned tiredly at each other. It was over. There was still a huge mess to clean-up, but it had been an amazing afternoon.

All these people, they bothered to come. I didn’t even know a lot of them very well, and some not at all, and I didn’t know if they would be interested in us. However, in the warmth of their graciousness my mistakes had melted. These were our friends. For me, they had made the party.

I have more to say on this topic, but I’m feeling winded and need to take a breath. I’ll be back soon. I promise.

…the newest member of our family: Our whole wheat starter baby!

I conceived this baby two days ago, Tuesday morning, by putting one cup of white starter in a clean half-gallon jar, adding 1/4 cup whole wheat flour and ½ cup water, and voila! I had me a new baby!

I feed it three times a day, like the other baby. I think you’re supposed to wait for three full days of feedings before using the starter in bread, but I’m going to cheat and start a batch of bread today, after only two full days.

The feeding schedule for a whole wheat starter is as follows:

In the morning put one cup of starter (only use the white starter once, just to get it going—from then on reserve one cup of the whole wheat starter every morning) in a clean jar, add 1/4 cup whole wheat flour and ½ cup water. Give the slurry a good stir, lightly secure the lid, and set the jar out of the way on the kitchen counter or up on the fridge.

At noon, or four to six hours later, add ½ cup whole wheat flour and 3/4 cup water.

In the evening, or four to six hours later, add one cup of whole wheat flour and 1 ½ cups water.

This is a much more runny starter than the white starter, the water and flour separates, and it just doesn’t look like it’s doing much. But it makes excellent bread, as I will soon show you!

Note: If you make the Farmer Boy Pancakes with whole wheat starter, you will need to add some extra flour, either white or whole wheat, or another one of your choosing, to thicken up the batter. Or you can combine both the white and whole wheat starters in the recipe—that is, if you have both babies going simultaneously.