The Doughnut Diaries: Part I
Doughnuts: those glutinous globules of goodness fueling America’s ingenuity and indigestion since the doughboys of WWI. For me, the competitors and antagonists of doughnuts — including bagels, muffins, toast, the American Heart Association, my mom — have come to challenge its status in my diet, but the fried dough remains one of my staples. They are wonderful critters- — on an emotional, intellectual, and above all else, hedonistic level.
Being the self-reflecting, intelligent hedonist that I am, it was high time I thoroughly scour the Washington D.C. area for the best doughnuts.
The actual concept came to me as I was walking to Slim’s Diner in Petworth on a Wednesday morning off from work.
“Why not do this?”
Usually that is enough impetus to set the wheels in motion for a personal project. The more I thought about this grand doughnut expedition, the more I perked up: It’ll be eccentric, quirky! I could run to the different doughnut spots. Maybe I can get others involved? Maybe even the girl I have a crush on will be interested?!?
I was excited and smug as I self-assuredly strutted into Slim’s for my breakfast.
Doughnut 1
At Slim’s, I scooted into a booth in the sun’s spotlight. Nowhere to hide if this gets ugly, I decided a darker, less vulnerable booth would better suit my needs. Doughnuts were on my mind, but so were the diner’s buttermilk pancakes. Yeah, this is definitely going to get ugly.
Shortly after ordering a bona fide feast, Jessie, my disheveled looking server, slung the vanilla glazed doughnut to my table.
“Here you go man, enjoy.”
The doughnut’s enamel was perfectly coated, like it was groomed meticulously for my judgement. A nearly translucent veneer, I was not sure if a glaze even existed. Like skating on a pond with the thinnest of icings, I should probably tread carefully.
But instead, I took an ambitious bite.
My mighty bite shattered the doughnut’s facade! The coating came undone, with my teeth and thumbprint leaving lasting marks. Once perfect in its posterior, cracks appeared throughout with chunks of icing flung onto the plate. Beauty is only icing deep. I could empathize (or rather, project my own emotions) with my doughnut. I am seemingly well-rounded appearing but a more detailed view will showcase some real cracks and imperfections, especially if bitten.
Before I could take a second bite of the doughnut, Jessie brought me my five buttermilk pancakes. My interior would soon come to resemble Jessie‘s exterior.
Nom nom nom nom *inhale* nom nom nom nom *inhale* nom nom nom…
I have always eaten quickly, but for particularly hefty, sweet meals, I eat as if I need to get rid of the evidence from the scene of the crime…the crime of gluttony! That point of satiation, of being comfortably full, was soon in my rear view mirror. I was full tilt, fully debauched.
The excitement I once exhibited before, those grand ambitions of a doughnut tour, eroded with each bite of the pancakes as I became fuller, lazier, and more self loathing. Rather than satisfaction, my stomach was pinging regret and shame to my brain. Stop stuffing your face, Ben!!! Yet, I came this far. Thelma and Louise went out in the blaze of glory and I felt obligated to do the same. I was going to finish everything on my plate.
Nom nom nom nom *inhale* nom nom nom nom *inhale* nom nom nom…
*exhale*
“I will never eat pancakes and doughnuts again,” I resolved as I vanquished the last piece into my bloated belly.
I quickly paid the bill and went straight home to bed. It was 10 am. I was in a sugary comatose state and my doughnut expedition was in serious jeopardy.
(Bitter)Sweet Lovin’
There are many different types of love expressed and felt in this world. The ancient Greeks referred to arguably the highest, most sanctimonious form of love as agápē. This is unconditional love — the sort that transcends any sort of barrier. I love you, irregardless, no strings attached. Agápē takes on biblical form in Christianity as God and Christ’s love for all.
Doughnuts (and sweets in general) express agápē. Whether a thief or a saint, a friend or a foe, all nibblers will experience the sweetness of a doughnut. There is no withholding of this love. Doughnuts do not require any reciprocation, whether you gobble it up or throw it in the trash, a doughnut will keep on keepin’ on with its sweet vibes. Wait, so if Jesus expresses agápē and doughnuts express agápē, does it stand to reason He is a doughnut? No, of course not. Although, Jesus did declare himself the (fried?) bread of life (John 6:25–35).
The real point is that agápē is a love not expressed by us mere mortals. Doughnuts are unconditionally loving in a way humans just are not capable of doing. Unconditional love does exist among humans, but it is conditioned on a familiarity, like a parent-child relationship. It is the unconditional unconditional love exhibited by doughnuts (and Jesus) which is so unique.
So while doughnuts are unconditional lovers, its creators are not. I do not express agápē, least of all to an inanimate, sugary treat. Instead of imparting love, I seek and exploit it in my relationship with doughnuts. The amount of love — or satisfaction—I consume can even be quantified as “utility,” per economic theory. As a (supposedly) rational economic actor, I should use or consume the amount of a good that maximizes my utility, ceteris paribus. Therefore, I should eat the number of doughnuts that will maximize my satisfaction.
With each doughnut I eat, my desire to keep eating and consuming such love will become less and less. Satiation, recognition of calories consumed, desire for other and more substantial food all play a part in reducing my desire for eating another doughnut. This is the law of diminishing marginal utility. I eat until the next doughnut produces negative marginal utility, ceteris paribus.
While this may not apply to Homer Simpson, humans exhibit a marginal utility preference profile for doughnuts that is diminishing.
My doughnut profile is rationally downward sloping. What’s not rational is my amount of consumption. As pancakegate clearly showed, I eat to excess, and then some.
Why don’t I stop? I’m not alone in looking to answer this question. Even the Cookie Monster is yearning for some behavioral self-control. Neurologically, humans are wired to always have room for sweets.
I Need (To Eat) You Because I Love You, Not I Love You Because I Need (To Eat) You
If I learned anything from the first day of my doughnut venture, it’s that this cannot be a misguided attempt to woo and attract others. Sure we all need validation and love, but there can be a lonely bitterness to the search. The famous psychoanalyst and social philosopher Erich Fromm recognized our tendency for this love mix up: “most people see the problem of love primarily as that of being loved, rather than that of loving, of one’s capacity to love.”
I was looking for love in a quirky adventure. But all I got was a really bad stomachache. My focus should be on loving, imparting love instead of seeking it. That’s what the doughnut does, not what I do when eating a doughnut.
If I wanted to continue on this doughnut journey, I needed to answer some questions along the way. Why do I equate sweets with love? Why do I overeat this love? Can I actually love and truly enjoy eating a doughnut? Can I do a doughnut adventure just for me?
Seeking these answers was to become a new objective. Hedonism would have to make room for actual emotional introspection. But before I could start up again, I first needed to wake up from my food coma nap.
