A Homemade Jersey Doughnut.

Being as it’s Thanksgiving and all, I thought I’d leave it until today to write about this Doughnut:

That’s this one, right here, in my hand

Call it stereotyping if you will but, you know, those Americans love their Doughnuts, right?

Right, Americans?

Ach, never mind. Stateside or not, love them or hate them, today – in my fourth post on Jersey Cakes and Puddings – is the day of the homemade Doughnut.

Its makers were the folks at the Breakwater Cafe, at the land end of the peaceful St Catherine’s Breakwater.

A better setting for a Doughnut I have never seen: the sun was out, the wind was low and the tourists had mostly decided to stay indoors.

Fools!

The Man and I had a better idea: pay our pound, get our Doughnut, and take it to a quiet bench for eating. Beats the four walls of a cafe, especially on a mild November day.

As it happened, the Doughnut itself didn’t quite match the beautiful setting. It was… all right. Fresh but not warm, soft with no crunch. Basically just a normal sugared Doughnut: by no means unpleasant, but hardly the mouthwatering treat we’d both envisaged.

Perhaps we’re just not big enough Doughnut fans. Even Krispy Kremes – which so many people get chuffed about – have never much floated my boat. Not even the ones which hold bits of Meringue or various layers of goo.

It could be the oil, I suppose – the taste and sensation of grease as you take your first bite.

I still live in hope of trying the perfect one; the one that converts me to Doughnuts as a whole. But so far they’re not quite for me.

The Breakwater though… I’ll take seconds of that any time.

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