I haven’t had much problem at all finding representations of doughnuts in art and have been deluging you recently with painted offerings. I have been neglectful on other forms of media and am pretty excited at what I’ve stumbled on here.
Washboard Sam was the stage name for American Blues musician Robert Brown (July 15, 1910 – November 6, 1966). He was known for a particular style of music known as skiffle, a uniquely American-based style of music which seemed to generate from New Orleans. Stemming from the African American music culture, it was a style of jazz which utilized more common household items like washboards, jugs, comb-and-paper, and the musical saw. Undoubtedly, this is where Washboard Sam got his name.
This particular song, Who Pumped The Wind In My Doughnut? is full of double entendre and sexual innueno.We have lyrics like “Who pumped the wind in my doughnut… sure don’t resemble me…” I could be wrong, though. I don’t claim to understand “down on that yam-yam tree” but I think much of it, such as “I like my doughnuts nice and sweet…” alludes the idea that the doughnut is his woman but that there was progeny who does not look like the father. Obviously, if it were a song about a fried dough, it would probably have best been sung, Who Pumped The Jam In My Doughnut?
Recorded sometime between 1935 and 1947, it is raw and rude and bawdy and fun. Take a gander and enjoy this little doughnut ditty!
Selling some dessert-themed jewelry at The Fillmore Jazz Festival, a guy stopped by and told me the name Jay Mercado, artist.
A San Francisco-based artist, Jay is another artist exploring the world of doughnuts and — it seems — he also teaches classes on doughnut painting. He has blogged about his doughnut paintings, but oddly does not include them on his professional website. Perhaps because he doesn’t consider doughnuts serious art. If you ever see this, Jay, I’ll refer you Emily Eveleth who has made a career in painting hyper-realistic doughnuts.
I particularly enjoy the photo which I found online, with the gallery opening reception providing an ample doughnut reception with the array of artwork on display in the back. I can’t tell exactly when the photograph was taken (all I can see is August 9, but who knows what year!), but at some point I will be tracking down the work of Jay Mercado, perhaps to acquire my own doughnut art.
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As part of my adventure in exploring other cultural aspects of fried dough, dear friends Sara and Cassy had brought me into Chinatown for the beginning of investigating Chinese fried dough at Hing Lung. But just a block or so away was Broadway Dim Sum Café and our day of discovery continued.
Rather small and somewhat dank, this is an establishment which gives the appearance of desperately needing a good cleaning. It seems the ladies behind the counter don’t speak English, but thankfully I had translators with me to order the three fried dough offerings in the display case; fried sesame ball, fried fun gow, and fried meat dumpling.
Sadly, none of these were very good. All too oily and cold, they were not cooked through properly with unbalanced seasonings and some raw dough found in the middle. The fried fun gow had the most potential since it contained the least amount of dough around the meat, but there was such a pervasive flavor of old and stale oil as to overpower any potential goodness which might have existed. The fried sesame ball, which I know is supposed to be slightly chewy, was so rank as to be thrown away after a mere nibble. Not recommended.
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After a horrifically disappointing meal at nearby Heaven’s Dog, I have BFF Lisa to thank for whisking me away to Thermidor for dessert. I had recalled they had a specialty doughnut on the menu and with iPhone in hand, she had mapped out that it was close enough to a theater where I had tickets for the evening and just enough time to grab dessert before curtain time.
It is pastry chef Kyle Caporicci who has created the dessert which called to me; Coffee, Cigarettes and Doughnuts with carrot cake, white chocolate custard and coffee ice cream. The “cigarette” is a stylized, thin white chocolate tube filled with a creamy mousse and is apparently infused with tobacco leaves reputed to give a nicotine buzz. I can’t comment on whether or not it gave me a nicotine buzz, per se, but the presentation and flavors did excite me. I’m giving some leniency in this because the “doughnut” is not actually fried dough, but carrot cake. But being the Ho that I am, I was terribly impressed with the plating, concept and flavor combinations. The coffee ice cream is some of the best I have tasted (and surprisingly, it is not coffee colored the way one would expect it). The classic cream cheese frosting was lightly studded with sprinkles but the little cakes were set upon some ground
Working the bar was a chap named Morgan and we felt an instant affinity, partly for his gregarious nature and for his gorgeous culinary tattoos. I just asked for his particular favorite gin cocktail and all I remember was him saying he had freshly made some raspberry purée and we just instructed our assent to construct whatever he deemed fit. It was a beautiful site, watching Morgan throw himself into the cocktail making was like watching Nijinski approach Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring; raw and inspirational and entirely heartfelt. We loved this place already. I wished I had written down what else was in the cocktail but we did know there were egg whites which produced a creamy and rich libation.
And then a tall man in a white jacket — Chef Bruce, no less! — walked up with an order of Pommes Dauphine (warm potato croquettes) served with lobster butter. Yep, I got a real fried dough entry out of this visit along with a cool dessert and an amazing cocktail! The Chef was confused as to who had ordered the appetizer because he could see we were already well under way with a dessert. Laughing, I coaxed him over. In a rush to catch a play, we didn’t care what order our dishes had arrived and the only disadvantage seemed to be in the fact that the intensely tender morsels of fried potato dough was the fact that garnished with salt and served with the unctuously rich lobster butter, it came across as too salty after the sweet dessert and fruit-sweet cocktail. Chef Bruce told us he made the lobster sauce fresh from live lobster and the quality was exquisitely discernible. The fried dough offerings were light and perfectly fried.
There was no bigger regret that we had eaten elsewhere beforehand and that our time was so short. But between two amazing courses and better than superlative service, this is a restaurant I will return to very shortly.
No special reviews, no flavor comparisons or analysis, and no historical references. Just a darn pretty looking Stars and Stripes offering to commemorate our nation’s birth.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
