November 8, 2019

“Son of a Baker”

The gentle buzz of my phone’s alarm is going off on the other side of my pillow. It’s 3 in the morning, and it’s time to make donuts. Eventually falling out of bed, I stumble through the darkness of my messy room until I finally manage to find a pair of jeans and my boots. I silently creek down the wooden steps of my house, trying my best not to wake the dogs or my sleeping Mom. I grab my baseball hat from the back hall and I’m ready to go. As I step outside the front door, I’m met with the chill breeze and silence of early morning. Walking down the street I feel almost like a zombie, barely alive but walking. I hike myself up into the seat of my Ford truck and turn on the radio, which always seems to be playing some Johnny Cash this early. It’s never an easy start, but for the past five years, this is how most Saturday’s at home begin.

It’s only a short drive down the road to my Dad’s local donut shop. On the corner of a four way stop lies the old building of his store. The shop has seen a lot in its long history. It once sat as a general store and gas station but was recently renovated into my Dad’s place back in 2012. The chipped walls and faded shingle roofing give a tired but cozy feel to the small family store. The humble look of the building perfectly embodies the reputation of my father’s work. Inside the walls of this warm building, my Dad sells straight up donuts at an affordable price. There’s nothing fancy about the donuts, like the storefront, but they’re loved by nearly everyone. The store opens sharply every morning at 6:30, which means my Dad usually starts cooking around 2:30. This comes as a surprise to most people; however it takes a while to get the store running. Unlike many other donut stores, my Dad cooks all of his donuts himself, never reselling those from the previous day. Even after waking up at 2:30, there’s never much time to hand make each batch of donuts before the first customers roll up to the store around sunrise. To me though, this is the best part about working here.

Seeing the beautiful sunrise each morning from the kitchen’s window is always worth the early wakeup. At this time of the morning, things can get pretty crazy in the back. Over the past eight years, like most chefs, my Dad has mastered the art of multitasking in his kitchen. I usually watch from this counter by the window as he tosses dough, flips the donuts, and fills boxes spread across the open room. Amidst the clanking pans and beeping timers of the kitchen, the local classic rock radio station can always be heard among all else in the back. With all this said, it’s easy to get distracted and lost in the accelerated life of the kitchen. However, each morning as I dip and frost donuts from this counter, I always take the time to admire the morning’s sunrise. Hardly ever dull, both the sunrises and sunsets in Smithfield almost always look as bright and colorful as this. To me they serve as a gentle reminder to always take a step back from work, no matter how crazy it can be. After all my time in the store, I can’t ever remember being not happy at this moment. While my Father and I have been at work for almost four hours by now, this is truly just the start of a busy Saturday.

The small store is broken up by two main spaces, split down the middle by a thin wall. The front of the store is where customers come in and the donuts are sold. On a Saturday morning the store’s front can get as busy as any local chicken swap! While customers begin coming in at a trickle, by the time the sun’s fully up the parking lot is packed. As customers come through the front two doors they are soon met with the warm smell of fresh donuts and coffee. Their attention is then immediately given to the showcases in the middle. Behind the glass of these brightly lit cases lies the various donuts for sale that morning, they can hold 18 different trays. These display cases have always been a favorite of both the customers and mine. When filled full with hot donuts there are few things more beautiful, especially first thing in the morning. I love watching children come in the store and stare in amazement as they decide on a choice. Their bright faces pressed against the glass as if to get a closer look at the donuts inside, the parents stand back, equally as excited. While hundreds of customers come through the front doors every morning, they always seem to leave with two things in common: donuts and a smile on their face.

The front of the store brings all the smiles, but the store’s kitchen is where the magic truly happens! This kitchen may not look like much at first glance, but it’s perfect for what we do. In fact, almost every piece of equipment in the kitchen was bought used from a bakery in Oklahoma. The scratches, dings, and stains give character to my Dad’s shop. I can’t imagine the store if it looked like a Krispy Kreme with spotless chromed and stainless steel equipment everywhere. Being in the back of the shop around the kitchen has a comfortable feeling to it. The type of place where you can throw on an apron and get your hands messy. My father has always kept a very clean work space, but we’ve never been afraid to get dirty either. After a long day of working in the back, I always feel very fulfilled with my Father and I’s work. There is satisfaction in the thought that every donut sold in our store has come through our hands at least once. It is in this small room that I first understood the importance of taking pride in my work.

It goes without saying that this store means a lot to me. Over the past eight years I’ve spent a lot of time here. Whether it be cooking, cleaning, or just watching the front, this store has always found a way to make meaningful memories. While my father has no intentions of passing the business down to my sister or I, the shop will always have a place in my life. I consider all the early mornings spent in the store not only special, but also invaluable. I could not have learned half of the lessons I know anywhere else. I’ve told my dad that I might not always enjoy rolling out of bed at 3am, however I can appreciate the way it’s come to shape me as an adult. I hope that the pictures is this narrative offer a small window into this important piece of my home.