They mastered the art of making the sugar doughnut. Rather than just being a snowy dust ball that ended up flaking all over your new shirt, the Spaulding sugar kruller had a mysterious paste-like quality to it that allowed the sugar to stay (mostly) on the doughnut and not on your clothes. Spaulding eventually went out of business, being bought up by Stroehmanns and today is owned by (believe it or not) Bimbo Bakeries!
Spaulding krullers still come in the familiar orange-and-white-striped box that carries their company slogan, “famous for flavor.” It may be just me but now that they’re made by Bimbo they don’t taste anything like the ones that came out of the bakery on Exchange Street in Binghamton oh those many years ago.
But there was another doughnut in my youth. Kind of a mysterious one. It came from New York City, brought up to the mountains by my Mom’s sister, Mazie. The downstate cousins would come pouring into the house, and my aunt would gingerly slip a royal blue and white box out of a fancy shopping bag and place it on our snack bar. “Entenmann’s” it said in fancy lettering across the front.
Entenmann’s was our “special doughnut.” Why? I have no idea. But I think for the most part because it came from a place we had never been, New York City. Their doughnuts were cakey, sweet, substantial and iced to perfection. Exalted. Sublime. This was no grab-bag doughnut, either. These were granted to us kids by by permission only.
“Entenmann’s please, Mom!”
I think my mother, who was brought up in Brooklyn, liked them because they were “a taste of the old neighborhood” for her. We liked them because they were more of a special treat for us, since they only arrived once or twice a year.