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    I know I stand in line until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me

    I spent part of the Memorial Day weekend going to a college friend’s wedding outside Harrisburg. Most of us from the old group gathered, so I got to see everyone and meet the latest babies. Very exciting. Funniest moment: four of us were from small-town Pennsylvania, and we all–independently of one another–looked the venue up and down and said, “A wedding at the fire hall–we’re so totally home!”


    I am in love with Dunkin Donuts. No, not the coffee–I know everyone loves that–the doughnuts themselves. I grew up with Pennsylvania Dutch sweets, so there was no shortage of real sticky buns and tender homemade kieffels and glorious pies–those transplanted Krauts make the best pies ever–but I went into Dunkin Donuts for a half-dozen on a whim a few weeks ago, and now I can’t stop. They’re so greasy they stick to the roof of the mouth, the cream filling tastes like chalk, and the crumb is about as tender as a Nerf ball. But I have two with a cup of coffee, and I feel American all over. Bonus points for the would-be sleek new box and stylized logos and tag line: “America runs on Dunkin.” Right, Dunkin Donuts provides fuel for, like, an active life. Didn’t you know that?


    The buddy I’m staying with has a few early seasons of The Simpsons on DVD. This is good. One of them includes that classic episode in which Sideshow Bob gets out of jail and marries Aunt Selma. Also good.

    Now I have Selma and Bob’s karaoke version of “Somethin’ Stupid” going through my head non-stop. This is bad. Very, very bad.

    6 Responses to “I know I stand in line until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me”

    1. Eric Scheie says:

      I love Dunkin Donuts! Their vanilla cream-filled donuts are the best sugar rush available for the price.

    2. Internet Ronin says:

      I’ve meant to ask you before, given your childhood locale, did you ever run across Salt Rising Bread?

    3. Internet Ronin says:

      BTW, RE: Dunkin’ Donuts: You are hereby ordered to turn in your Vast Right Wing Conspiracy membership card and decoder ring on Marshall Michelle Malkin’s orders. Speaking of her highness, I ran across this tidbit today. Have no idea if it is true, but the thought that she might be an anchor baby is worth a giggle (or two).

    4. Sean Kinsell says:

      Eric, aren’t they the most deliciously horrible things ever? I’m so in love.

      Internet Ronin, yes, there was salt-rising bread around, though my mother baked all the bread for our household, so most of the baked goods that we bought were those that were tedious to make at home. Shoo-fly pie, for instance. (Speak of sugar rushes!)

      I’m afraid I don’t get the Malkin reference, though I’m flattered you think the VWRC would ever issue card and ring to the likes of me. What…did Dunkin Donuts cosponsor an opera series with Planned Parenthood, or something?

    5. Internet Ronin says:

      Sean, a couple of days ago, Malkin apparently went ballistic over the scarf Rachael Ray wore in a Dunkin’ Donuts ad.

      When I was a kid, Van de Kamp’s salt rising bread was a Sunday morning breakfast staple. Van de Kamp’s bakery, a Los Angeles area institution for over half a century, was theoretically a Dutch bakery, but I’ve been told this recipe originated in the Pennsylvania Dutch country and we both know they weren’t Dutch :). Thus my question. The Van de Kamp family lost interest in the bakery business and it folded. They still operate Lawry’s restaurants &seasonings, I believe.

    6. Connie says:

      Agree completely on D&D. Nothing says American more than D&D.

      And I also agree on Van de Kamp’s. God I miss that. For non-Los Angelians, they had a similar product offering to Entemann’s except Van de Kamp’s stuff was GOOD and tasted homemade.

      They made a coffee cake that had a white cake bottom with a pecan crumb topping that was to die for. Members of my family would fight over who got to scrape off and eat the cake bits that stuck to the bottom of the tinfoil/cardboard flat that it was cooked in.

      Long after they’d gone out of business (sold out to Entemann’s, I think) my brother tried for about three months to replicate it (when I sister and I got on a nostalgic kick about that cake). He came pretty darn close, but it was never exactly right.

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