The Fried Dough Ho

No, this post isn’t about any form of fried dough, but a specialty fruit that appear briefly each summer, the Donut Peach. I am considering this a sort of Trompe l’Oeil doughnut for looking at it, there is no doubt the mind immediately goes to the more fattening, unhealthy version. A little research has discovered that with the heightened awareness of heirloom fruits and vegetables, this is not actually a new variety of peach at all, but had been grown in the States as early as the 1800’s. Originally from China, it probably lost its allure because its flesh is not the bright yellow of classic peaches and also perhaps its shape.

Long before it was known as the Donut Peach — undoubtedly because of its flattened shape with the ubiquitous hollow in the center so indicative of those raised and cake varieties we love so much — this odd fruit was known as Chinese flat peaches, Chinese sauces peaches, peento peach, or Galaxy or Saturn peach (because it alludes to a 1950s U.F.O. shape and/or the rings of our sixth planet?) Now more commonly referred to as the Donut Peach, California and Washington are the primary locales for its growth and farming.

As an artist, I am drawn to their two-toned, mottled color – pale yellow splotched with alluring splashes of blushing crimson at once, demure but at second glance, teasing and sultry. Granted, there is not as much flesh so cooking with donut peaches would take a few more if quantity is needed – and they are a bit more expensive. But on the upside, they are lower in acid than the classic peach with a more mild, sweeter taste and some have ascribed almond overtones to them. They are a little easier to eat and the skin tends to be a bit thinner with less fuzz so some who are inclined to peel peaches might enjoy these varieties more. I have also found them much easier to pit; a quick slice through the flesh with a knife and the two halves can be twisted apart with the pit almost falling free, leaving just unctuous bites of decadent fruit easy to consume.

My last doughnut stop in Austin was truly a special one. It was recommended to us by the lady selling us macarons at La Boite and is called Mrs. Johnson’s Bakery. What makes it special is a variety of things, mostly that fresh, warm doughnuts are available after 9:00 p.m. in the evening. And so we waited until after the sun had set for my epic journey towards Fried Dough Ho’dom.

Driving through the streets of Austin, there was a PBS radio station on the car radio playing tunes of the 1950s and I felt as though I were in the George Lucas movie, American Graffiti; this was as much about the journey as the destination. When we arrived, I could already smell the aroma of hot sugar in the air and I spied the sign which indicated that Mrs. Johnson’s had been around since 1948 and the building helped confirm that sense of nostalgia. In the front window was a long machine which rolled out the dough and cut the slab into its octagonal shapes. I watched the worker deftly pulling out the holes from the freshly-hewn rounds. All this joy and wonderment and I was not even inside yet.

What I was faced with surprised me; the full production of doughnut manufacturing going at full steam. It was so oddly gratifying and heartfelt. I was giddy and my enthusiasm was contagious. Enraptured at the scene, I watched closely as one worker organized the holes while another was laying out trays of freshly-cut rounds to be risen. And then another grabbed a giant bowl of dough and it dawned on me that my camera had the video record function. So I am pleased to share my first personal recording of doughnut preparation on Fried Dough Ho:

They knew I was a die-hard enthusiast. Ordering a small selection to take home and taste, the guy behind the counter put an extra doughnut in my box as well as one in my hand before I left. A freshly fried and glazed raised octagon of deliciousness, the warm doughnut in my hand was light and tender. Oh — and did I tell you it was WARM? Other than full-on restaurant offerings, I can’t think of when I have ever had a warm doughnut. I know that was the big selling point for Krispy Kreme for all those years, but in California, I never tried one fresh, only old and cold and mediocre.

What came home to try besides the warm glazed raised was a jelly-filled, chocolate cake, plain cake, and apple fritter. Someone else recommended the apple fritter and sadly, it just did not stand up to my benchmark fritter, Randy’s doughnuts in Los Angeles. Here the apples were indeed canned and fake and it was over spiced with too much cinnamon. The two cake doughnuts however, were exceptional. With a tight, moist crumb, the chocolate was slightly oily but not in a way that I found derogatory whatsoever. Instead, it made it richer and headier. The same dough used in the raised glazed was also that in the jelly doughnut and again, I was perfectly thrilled with this smaller-than-usual sized doughnut. Intensely light and fluffy, the raspberry filling was undoubtedly canned and mass-produced, but not overly sweet and perfectly acceptable.

I have had many mass-produced doughnuts, but these were a cut above. Fresh and warm aside, there was an inherent quality in the knowledge of the fact that these doughnuts were hand-made and not entirely machine-manufactured. And that hand-made quality is discernible, providing a level of excellence and satisfaction. There is much to be said for the vintage atmosphere of the building, the equipment, and the surroundings. Perhaps it was the music I was listening to or hearkening back to an era of simplified goodness, but Mrs Johnson’s certainly helps give the consumer that passionate level of contentment with its doughnuts.

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 grew up with a Father from the south and was well-indoctrinated with his version of hushpuppies. They came from a box mix that I am not even sure is still on the market these days. Dad would make them whenever we had pan-fried trout or catfish or other southern delicacies that he recalled from his youth in Albandy, Georgia. He would tell me the etymology (which I later learned was printed on the side of the box), about how these cornmeal-based fritters’ name came from hunters or fisherman who would throw them to their canine companions to quiet them; literally, “hush, Puppy!” A slightly savory batter, the best hushpuppies I’ve had are studded with scallions and made with buttermilk, fried to golden goodness and served with butter.

At San Francisco’s 1300 Fillmore, southern cuisine is elevated to a more elegant setting. I have dined often on their shrimp-and-grits, fried chicken, and braised short ribs. It was a quiet evening when I stopped in to the bar area for a quick bite and saw shrimp hushpuppies on the appetizer menu. Somewhat anticipating bits of chopped shrimp in the cornmeal batter, I was surprised to see that the dough completely encased a whole shrimp, with the tail protruding out. The coarse hushpuppy batter was acting more like a tempura batter than its own vessel, but I was pleasantly surprised by the tenderness and richness of the batter. Served with an ancho chile remoulade, I found the flavor rich and not too overpowering for the delicate taste of the shrimp. Not a traditional hushpuppy by any means, but still quite enjoyable!

The Ferry Plaza is a bit of a food mecca to die-hard foodies. There are dozens of stores offering any form of culinary delight, from meats to mushrooms, from macarons to Malbec.  I Preferiti di Boriana is one of the specialty stores offering a variety of products but truthfully, I don’t know what else they sell — I only go there for the Bombolini.

My BFF (Best Foodie Friend), Lisa, joined with me on the stunningly Spring day — which helps considerably so that I can taste more than one flavor without being too gluttonous. And she and I were completely in sync in wanting to taste the Raspberry filled and the Custard.

The wonders of this offering lies in its light cake which is tender and airy. Dusted in granulated sugar, there is no greasy sensation whatsoever and the cake is substantial enough to stand up to the fillings. Of the two, I was surprised that I enjoyed the creamy custard, moreso than the raspberry. It does not taste remotely synthetic or mass-produced, like so many custards. It is not overly sweet and the richness of the egg is definite.

The raspberry jam, is also very good, but somehow the extra sweetness of the jam, combined with the sweetness of the sugar on the exterior makes it that much more overpowering in sweet, while the custard mutes that sweetness.

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