The Fried Dough Ho

Over a month ago, I waxed poetic about the discovery of Polish Pączki (May 3rd, to be exact). I was so enthusiastic about these morsels of fried goodness that I decide to make them myself. It was part of my birthday celebration to create the most exceptional form of fried dough for my friends that are humanly possible.

And yet here they show up in the New York Times. And I take Edward Schneider to task on describing their construction with a brioche dough. A BRIOCHE dough? You have got to be kidding! Sorry, Ed. You are so very, very wrong. Maybe that shop in New York is cutting corners by creating a Pączki with brioche dough, but the real recipe calls for alcohol. And a fondant? No, no, no. A bit of a dusting with sugar or possibly honey. Even the site you linked to shows a version that is glazed, not covered with fondant. Oh, you crazy New Yorkers…

Coincidence or conspiracy theory? Is it that the Fried Dough Ho is predicting a trend? Yep – forget cupcakes. Who cares about frozen yogurt? Organic and sustainable is yesterday’s news.

It is all about doughnuts. Or donuts. Whatever.

The crystal ball is out and the tarot cards have been cast. I predict the rise of the popularity of the doughnut and for me, it happened the day that the New York Times road my coattails through a vat of hot oil to be drained and glazed and consumed.

Welcome, brethren, to the Secret Brotherhood. Secret decoders rings will be made and available for sale shortly. Order yours early; supplies are limited.

I love it when doughnuts make the news. It is even more juicy when it involves a celebrity. There is something so ironic as the all-American wholesomeness of doughnuts with the sordid controversy of someone famous. In this case it is sports celebrity, Golden Tate, Seahawks draft pick and former Notre Dame wide receiver. Gee, an all-American sports star! According to the hometown newspaper, Tate was picked up at 3:00 a.m. for trespassing in Bellevue’s Top Pot Doughnut shop.

I have to admit some shame in that I visited Top Pot during a trip in the Pacific Northwest in February and I haven’t yet written up my account of Top Pot, but based on the Raspberry Chocolate Cake doughnut that I tasted, I can’t blame Tate one bit.

According to TMZ, Tate “was not arrested — but they wouldn’t expand on why the 21-year-old was inside the store while it was closed. [They] spoke to the manager of the Top Pot shop who said he would not be commenting on the matter.  On a related note, Top Pot recently inked a deal to become the official coffee and donut partner of Qwest Field — home of the Seattle Seahawks.”

Now based on the guy’s youth — heck, a mere 21-year old kid? — and how fabulous these doughnuts are, I say he was perfectly justified and to give him a break. I know that if *I* get a serious doughnut jonesing at 3:00 a.m. and Top Pot were in my neighborhood, I’d probably break in there as well.

I remember when I first started talking with friends about my desire to start this blog. Specifically, it was the night I took San Francisco Chronicle food writer, Marlena Spieler, to experience one of my favorite restaurants in San Francisco, Nombe. I discovered Chef Nick Balla when he was cooking for the Kabuki Hotel’s O Izakaya restaurant. He paired up with husband-and-wife team Mari Takahashi and Gil Payne; they closing down their Sozai Izakaya and Nick leaving the Hotel to come together in the Mission with a remarkable and innovative menu.

On my visit with Marlena several months ago, Chef Nick finished the meal with what he calls “Seagull Eggs.” That was the revelatory moment and with my mouth stuffed with one of the lightest and fluffiest fried dough offering I had experienced, I proposed to Chef Nick. I want to marry the man who can create a fried dough on this level. I took pictures of the fried dough I had with Marlena and they were stuffed with a bit of freshly-made yuzu jam. And those pictures are just as dark as the ones I am posting today.

I was determined to come back and get better photographs and the culmination of my Fried Dough Birthday Celebration seemed the perfect opportunity. That and the fact that I had been wanting to get Lisa here for ages. Ironically, I forgot that Nombe is closed on Tuesdays as Lisa and I finished our Bacon Beignet at Frances before walking down to the shuttered Nombe. But Nick was there, working on a new bar area and we promised to return. Just two days later, after a great evening at Mission Street Food, Lisa and my fish monger friend, Gabe, and I sauntered into Nombe to FINALLY get my Birthday Sea Gull Eggs.

This time, served with a Strawberry Jam and fresh crème fraîche and I Got A Candle! Nick’s offerings are fairly large; 3″ across. Served warm with dipping cream, these are easily my favorite freshly-made dessert offerings in the city. These are not cakey, heavy doughnuts. Lightly dusted with granulated sugar and so ethereally light, the hint of sweetness in the dough is balanced with the slightly tart jam which is just barely inserted into the cake. When the platter arrives, it is easy to say, “Oh, I could never eat so many,” but as the plate empties, it is much easier to say, “I want more.” Now I just have to start making Chef Nick’s engagement ring…

I have really great friends. It is a pretty fabulous friend who, knowing she is driving from Los Angeles to San Francisco makes a special stop just to bring The Ho a Bay Area rarity, Portuguese Doughnuts known as Malasadas. It was my buddy, Lisa, who did just that. A few days before my birthday, when Lisa was visiting family down south and stopped at Natas Pastries in Sherman Oaks. Here in the Bay Area, the only Portuguese Bakeries I can locate seem to be in Hayward or Santa Clara, cities I just don’t get to very often (okay, those are cities I don’t ever remember having gone to at all).

So I was pretty stoked when, after a 6+ hour drive, Lisa deposits on my doorstep a small white box filled with three Portuguese malasadas (also known as malazadas or malassadas). History has them being produced for the first time on the Island of Madeira and the Azores. As with many of the other  European-centric doughnut offerings, it is said that the malasadas originated by the necessity of using up sugar and lard before Lent, making them classically served for Mardi Gras.

Like my recently-prepared Pączki, these yeast-risen offerings are supposed to include a great deal of egg yolks and heavy cream. And while I greatly enjoyed the Natas malasadas that Lisa procured for me, now that I have tasted a REAL egg and cream-based doughnut, I am inclined to believe that these from a store have come from a different recipe. They are more like the standard bombolini I have been trying of late; very light and fluffy with a tender crumb. Two of the ones Lisa brought were just the fried dough while the third, larger one was filled with custard. Dusted with granulated sugar and even despite a very lengthy car ride, these were very rich, excellently-prepared doughnuts. The custard was not too sweet and quite rich. In some fashion, I much preferred these over the bombolini and continue to be very appreciate and grateful of my darling friend, Lisa.

One of the top destination restaurants in the city for the last six months has been Melissa Perillo’s Frances. I had the distinct pleasure to dine at the Fifth Floor under Perillo’s command and was looking forward to experiencing her new endeavor. The reservations at Frances are booked up weeks in advance and it is only the fact that a handful of bar seats are left open for first-come diners that enabled me to plan my birthday celebration.  Lisa and I arrived a few minutes before they opened and a line had already been established for a few of those choice non-reservation seats. We were lucky, getting a great seat at the bar with an optimal view down the hallway and into the kitchen where we could watch the action of waitstaff, Chef Perillo, and her kitchen crew. Ironically, June 1st was also Fraces’ sixth month anniversary so I felt that much more special celebrating along with them.

Bobby was our server behind the bar and when I explained that we were not eating an entire meal service but had only come in as part of my Fried Dough Ho obsession, he smiled with a twinkle in his eye and whisked away the menus, “I know exactly what you are having then,” he chuckled. While we waited, we savored a small, round shot glass full of their daily Market Shot – a concoction of fresh fruit juices and a touch of alcohol. Pixie mandarin, Meyer lemon, blood orange, pommeau, and Pedro Ximenez sherry. Also while we were waiting, we were served a small bowl of sage-scented roasted almonds; hard to not eat a lot of but I knew we had a long, dining night ahead of us.

Before I knew it, we were presented with two offerings, the rather infamous Applewood Smoked Bacon Beignets served with maple crème fraîche studded with chives and Panisse Frites, crispy chickpea fritters served with Meyer lemon aïoli. It was hard to choose which one to bite into first, but since it was the beignets that brought us here, I succumbed to the golden globes of goodness. These were tender, light and with tiny bits of bacon speckled throughout. So often a beignet can have a chewy, hard exterior but here, it was silky and rich. The accompanying maple crème fraîche was especially decadent, worthy of licking off one’s fingers (as Lisa will attest).

The chickpea fritters were a revelation. I know what beignets are supposed to taste like. And I know what the classic hush puppy-like fritter tastes like. Making a fritter from chickpeas, on the other hand, is a bit of a mystery. Is it a matter of frying a hummus-like concoction? What is used to bind the chickpeas into the perfectly square logs? Dusted in a bit of cornmeal, the exterior was crunchy and firm but the interior was the surprise — absolutely creamy and smooth, almost molten; the way I have tasted fried goat cheese in the past.  Several minutes into savoring, that almost liquid-like interior never dissipated or hardened, the way a molten cheese would. The Meyer lemon aïoli is a natural complement to the rich flavors of the garbanzo, providing a bright counterbalance to the redolent fritter.

Lastly, a note on service. Everybody — and I mean everybody — was smiling. Big, bountiful, we-are-really-happy-to-be-here smiles. It was infectious. There is so much to be said for a restaurant when the general goodwill pervades the atmosphere. I was feeling a tad guilty about coming in for only a few courses, but Bobby was not only amenable, but helpful and understanding. Watching us enjoy the fried goodness, he knew we would be back for more and it is my hope to go back sooner. If the fried dough offerings were this exceptional, the rest of the menu will undoubtedly knock my socks off.