Despite the recent “new trend”, food delivery was quite common in the ‘70s. We had a milkman who delivered more than just plain milk. If you were so inclined, he would leave cottage cheese, or butter, or, if you were really lucky, ice cream. We were never that lucky.
“It will melt all over the doorstep,” my mother said, all practical-like. “Our door faces the east, and since the sun rises in the…” she trailed off, ever the elementary school teacher that she was, waiting for me to supply the correct answer.
I crossed my arms and glared at her. I wanted ice cream and I didn’t care about the stupid sun.
But despite the dearth of ice cream deliveries at my house, my parents did bend for something even better: Spudnuts. In case you grew up with parents meaner than mine and never got to have a Spudnut, they were doughnuts made out of potatoes. And while there were supposedly magical Spudnut doughnut shops around the country, in our neighborhood, the best-thing-ever-made-out-of-a-potato treat was delivered to your door at seven o’clock Saturday mornings just in time for cartoons.
Yes.
So, every Saturday for what felt like years but my mother assures me was only two or three at the most, my brother, Brian, and I would wait patiently (read: running around the den like crazed lunatics) for the teenage neighbor boys who delivered the doughnuts to ring our doorbell. Really, you would think we were never given any sugar if you saw how we would attack Wes and Mike for the waxed paper bag they held out to us like animal trainers offering a slab of meat to wild tigers. They always seemed a little afraid of us.
After the exchange was safely made, some dollar bills for them, the white bag of treasure for us, we’d slam the door and run to the kitchen. We may have been little heathens, but we knew better than to eat anywhere but at the kitchen table. A doughnut and glass of milk apiece later and it was time to get to work. You see, we were deep sea divers, members of the Sealab 2020 underwater research base. If you don’t remember this cartoon, you are not alone. It only aired one season because, apparently, Brian and I were the only two kids watching it.
But even cancellation didn’t stop us from carrying out our missions. All we needed were the cylindrical plaid pillows from our couch (remember, it was the ‘70s), a couple of belts to strap them to our backs, and loads of sugar for fuel. We were set. While cartoons played in the background (we needed a soundtrack), we swam and dove to the depths of our ocean floor – gold shag carpeting – while studying the abundant sea life around us – old books, Spanish porcelain ballerinas, fake ferns, and Duraflame logs in the fireplace. It wasn’t until years later that I realized that the room we were “diving” in was walled with two huge floor to ceiling plate glass windows overlooking the back yard. Rather than being brave research divers, we were more like two fish in a giant fish bowl. The irony.
But that is the wonder of the sugar-fueled child; she doesn’t care about where the sun rises or sets because she is not yet locked into a world that demands facts. Children see oceans in gold shag, scuba tanks in plaid pillows and gourmet wonderment in potato doughnuts while being blissfully unaware that they are actually safely ensconced in a fish bowl until they’re old enough to know the truth. Reality, what a bummer.
During the Christmas holidays one year, many years later when Brian and I were both on the doorstep of middle age, we were eating doughnuts for breakfast at our parents’ kitchen table.
“Remember the Spudnuts?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “And the scuba diving.”
I laughed. “Did you ever think that WE were the fish in a fish bowl?”
He stared at me for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Well, no. But it was a blast and those were some damn good doughnuts.”
Yes and yes.
*** Full disclosure: The photo above is not of a Spudnut. I couldn’t find an actual potato doughnut anywhere, and after going to the grocery store for potatoes twice to make the doughnuts and forgetting potatoes twice, I decided a photo of a doughnut left over from our weekend would have to do. It was still good. Trust me.
MARIO BATALI’S POTATO DOUGHNUTS (From ABC’s The Chew)
- 1/2 pound Russet Potatoes (peeled and cut into chunks)
- 1/2 cup Whole Milk
- 2 teaspoons Active Dry Yeast
- 2 large Eggs
- 3 – 4 cups All-Purpose Flour (or as needed)
- 1 1/2 teaspoons Salt
- 2 tablespoons Sugar
- 1/4 cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil (plus 4 cups for deep-frying)
- 2 tablespoons Sweet Red Vermouth
- grated zest and juice of 1 Orange
- Granulated Sugar (for dusting)
step-by-step directions
- Place the potatoes in a large pot, cover with water, and bring to a boil. Boil gently until tender. Drain and pass through a food mill or ricer into a large bowl. Let cool.
- Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, heat the milk over low heat just until warm. Remove from the heat, sprinkle the yeast into the milk, and let sit for 15 minutes, or until foamy.
- Add the eggs, flour, salt, sugar, the 1/2 cup olive oil, the vermouth, and orange zest and juice to the potatoes and mix well to combine. Add the yeast mixture and knead well, adding a little more flour if necessary if the dough is very sticky. Cover and let the dough rise in a warm place for 1 hour, or until doubled.
- Divide the dough into 4 equal pieces. Roll each one into a 1 1/2-inch-thick rope. Cut each one into 5-inch lengths and form into little doughnuts. Place the doughnuts on a well-oiled baking sheet, cover with a towel, and let rise for 45 minutes, or until doubled.
- In a deep pot, heat the remaining 4 cups olive oil to 340 degrees. Working in batches, fry the doughnuts until golden brown, about 5 minutes per batch. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on a plate lined with paper towels. Sprinkle generously with granulated sugar while hot and serve warm.
Mom, ultrarunner, four-time US 24 Hour National Team member, adventure athlete, food writer. Graduate of the Pro Cooking Program at the New School of Cooking, Los Angeles. Will run for food.
{ 4 comments }
I Googled “potato doughnut” and came up with lots of photos of Spudnuts.
SteveQ recently posted…The Greying of the Finish Line
I went to college in Plainview, TX and there was a Spudnut shop there (right by the campus!!!).
I heard it just closed recently:(
Kim recently posted…Sometimes I Just Feel Sad
I just loved reading this.It took me back to a whole different time and place – even though I’ve never had a spudnut or watched Sealab 2020.
Char recently posted…A Public Service Announcement
Mmmmmmm donuts. Our donut place growing up was a retro joint time forgot called Amy Joy. It’s in the Blues Brothers movie.
We had blue/green shag carpet with a snow white naugahyde couch. Totally groovy.
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