OK, all the talk about donuts made me take a nostalgia trip to my youth.
Dad would come home from work every once in a while with two waxed bags of sheer delight. Inside were warm, crispy, gnarly shaped and heavily dusted donuts. They came from "The Doughnut Man", that is the name we gave him anyway. His 'store' was an old bus that he parked along a busy major roadway. In the bus was a complete setup for mixing dough, rolling out the donuts into wildly uneven shaped circles and cooking them in fresh oil, changed daily. After they were well done, he plucked them out to drain, then put them into the waxed bags and added a large scoop of confectioners' sugar while they were still warm into the bag. Some of the sugar would melt into the donuts and some would just cling in heavy clusters to the crisp exterior.
Sometimes Dad would take us kids with him to get the donuts. It was about a half hour drive but it was worth it. We knew that if we were standing with Dad while he was at the bus window giving his order we would get a free doughnut, warm and coated with sugar. It was impossible to eat one without getting the dust all over your face and clothes but oohh, it was soooo good.
We were all very upset when the Doughnut Man decided to retire and take his secrets with him. No one ever took his place in that area or in our hearts or stomach. We still talk about him today and our mouths water just thinking about those delicious tastes of heaven.
