It’s Week 3 of the 52 Weeks of Gratitude Challenge, here’s our challenge for this week:
If you missed any of the other posts in the series, check them out here.
Week 3: Family
When we were kids, my sister and I used to look forward to winter because this was the one time of year when my mom would make homemade doughnuts. It was a family recipe passed down from her mother and was always something we did together. My mom would make the dough on our kitchen counter, and my sister and I would help her cut out the doughnuts. Our entire counter would be covered in flour, and our home would smell heavenly. Then came my absolute favorite part of the whole process! She would put powdered sugar into a brown paper bag, and as the doughnuts came out of the pan she would drop them into the bags and give them to me and my sister to shake. After we had shaken the bag of doughnuts and sugar, we’d hand the bag back to her for more doughnuts.
I don’t know when the tradition of making homemade doughnuts actually started, but it was something I was so excited to do when I finally moved into my first place. My Fiance and I called up my Grandma for the recipe, and we were ready to make my first batch of homemade doughnuts since I moved out of my parent’s house! If you’ve never fried anything in an apartment before, I’m about to tell you why that might be. After somehow containing our mess onto one kitchen counter, we managed to cut out all the doughnuts and doughnut holes with a doughnut cutter. We had about four plates full of doughnuts ready to be fried. Using the new cast iron skillet we got for Christmas, we added some vegetable oil and started dropping in doughnuts. The entire apartment was filled with smoke from the skillet, and the fire alarm went off before we even finished our first batch.
We had to open all the windows and wait almost an hour before the smoke had cleared. However, we still had plates full of raw doughnuts ready to be fried. Thankfully my Fiance’s parents’ house wasn’t far away, and we were able to bring our doughnuts to their home to be fried and powdered. In exchange for allowing us to use their kitchen for a few hours, we let them have some of our doughnuts. I can’t tell you how much it warmed my heart to see my Fiance standing by the stove turning doughnuts in the skillet, ready to drop them in my bag full of powdered sugar. It was like going back in time to when I was a kid, only this time I had a little more grace when it came to shaking the bag of doughnuts, and the floor wasn’t coated in powdered sugar when I finished.
This week I found myself thinking a lot about the traditions my family started, such as reading The Night Before Christmas every year on Christmas Eve, hunting for Easter eggs on Easter Sunday every year (imagine 21 year olds hunting for Easter eggs. Seriously, this happened), and making homemade doughnuts every winter. I’m grateful for the traditions my family started with me and the ones I’ve carried on since then, intentional or not.