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Entries in spaulding kruller donuts (2)


Kruller Quest Fulfilled

In a way.

Little did I know my blog entry of a few weeks ago reminiscing about Spaulding Krullers donuts would unearth at least two other people and families who'd also been thinking lately about the tasty treats of our childhoods.

We all asked each other, "What ever happened to those donuts? And how can we find out?"

Thanks to my parents, who still live in upstate NY and who went to our local grocer to do a little sleuthing, I found out the donuts are still made. In the red-and-white-striped box. With the blue banners. (The stickers are courtesy of my parents.)

They're made by Stroehmann Bakeries in Hosham near Philadelphia.

So, that's good. If you can get them.

The only bad part, and I'm sort of now remembering this, is that the recipe for that signature sugar coating has been *changed*. It's more like just regular powered donut sugar now. Not that unique stuff you could scrape off with your teeth.

I think I actually discovered this not long before I moved down to Washington DC from upstate NY and had, therefore, written the donuts out of my mind. They just weren't the same.

However, the doughnut dough itself still has that signature nutmeg-y flavor (as one of the guys who emailed me said).

Don't get me wrong. It was still way-fun to get a "mystery package" from my parents and find the box inside. It was still fun to remember how those little white donuts lifted me through more than one teen funk.

And I guess I'm not the only one!

Rejoice, the Kruller liveth!


A Donut for All Times

For some reason the other day I was thrown back to memories of acquiring and eating Spaulding Kruller donuts. I think it's because it's been a helluva work week. Nose to the grindstone and all that.

I just googled "Spaulding Kruller" and found a couple of other blog entries from people who grew up in upstate New York who remembered them equally fondly. They were a medium-sized donut that came in a red, white and blue (or was it just red and white)-striped box. But the kicker was the white sugar coating. It wasn't all powdery and flaky and soft, but rather more "together." I remember eating the sugar off the donut first, in strips, from the top center of the donut down to its butt and then all the way around. And then I'd eat the naked little dough part. Kind of like twisting open an Oreo and scraping off the white filling first.

Even more than the donut, though, I recall the process of going to buy the donut. I  remember walking down my street and across the bridge over the river and down the Main street to the store to buy them. Sometimes I rode my bike with the turquoise seat. Often without my parents' knowing, or at least I think they didn't. Sometimes my friend Mary and I would go together and share them on the walk back, leaning on the rusty railing of the iron bridge. Sometimes I'd eat them all myself. I'd hide them when I got home, counting how many were left before I tucked the box away and swearing revenge on any who disturbed them.

They were clandestine Kruller's. A guilty pleasure. And one whose sugary solace still stirs my soul.