"oh no, those have been sold out since 9," the girl said, almost incredulously, "you have to get here really early to get one."
and so began an increasingly determined quest for the elusive donut. one time i was too early ("they're still in the oven"), one time i was too late (9:05am), and one time i got there before the bakery had even opened. that time, (and i confess this in the hopes you'll understand how defeat, even of the pastry variety, can sometimes get the best of us) - i cried all the way home.
i've since enjoyed plenty of french donuts. i remember that first successful trip vividly when i was neither too early nor too late and i saw them sitting neatly in their paper and wicker basket holdings and i waited patiently in line for my turn to say, "i'll have one of those, please."
it was delicious.
airy and sweet and warm - you could tell the thing was made with skill and love in equal parts.
this morning i met mel for one that we shared over coffee and i laughed to myself thinking how something once so mysterious, can be made familiar with persistence and patience, (and an early bird constitution).