My mother used to make donuts from my grandmother's recipe, and they were cooked in lard.
I haven't had one in over 50 years, but I do think about them these days, when donuts seem to be sad shadows of what they were. When I got my license at 16, there was a donut shop at the edge of town, and I would often stop there early in the morning on the weekends, and they would still be warm. The whole place smelled like fresh donuts, and I would always have one in the car before anyone else got one.
Those were great days, and everything seemed full of promise. We went out for apples yesterday in the convertible, and they had home made apple cider donuts at the farm stand.
My wife said ''NO!''. No donut for Dan.
