That was a mistake.
Because of sky high cholesterol, which is now being battled by Crestor, thank you very much, I see a nutritionist. We discovered that my cholesterol is mostly genetic, but we also discovered I’m insulin resistant. And I could explain the science to you, well, maybe I can’t, but the end result is if I eat carbs, not the good stuff, like lettuce and spinach, but the truly good stuff, like pasta and bread and processed sugars, I get high and then I crash and I end up waking hungover, like I am right now.
Oh, those were the days. When I drank all night and could barely get out of bed the next day. One of the great things about not drinking is not waking up feeling terrible the next day. Then again, maybe you’re the kind of person who can have one or two drinks. I never was. Don’t call me unless you’re ready to PARTY!
But around midnight last night, Jake got a hankering for something sweet. He wanted to go to Tim Hortons.
Donuts. Or should I say “doughnuts,” that’s what we used to call them before someone decided the people eating them could not comprehend the moniker. It’s kind of like Homer Simpson and beer. If you contemplate donuts and your stomach turns and you say ICK, you’re a supermodel who tries to convince us you never get hungry and this is just your god-given metabolism, even though you have an eating disorder and won’t admit it. Has anyone ever concocted something more pleasurable than fried dough? Mmm…
But being midnight, finding an emporium that was open was difficult. We were driving around town, until we found an enterprise out of an Edward Hopper painting that looked closed, but wasn’t.
Unfortunately, they were closing soon, so selection was slim.
What donut do you prefer?
For tasting purposes, I go with your standard glazed, the Krispy Kreme supreme. That’s what my dad used to buy us as kids. My mother never woke up until ten, but my father got up at the crack of dawn, and went out to do god knows what before he came home and woke us up for school. But oftentimes, on his journey, he’d purchase donuts, for our breakfast. Mmm… Glazed, from Dunkin’ Donuts, before the chain became famous for cheap coffee.
But left to my own devices, at this advanced age, my favorite donut is an apple fritter. Purchased from the Winchell’s at Pico and Sepulveda. I think it’s still a Winchell’s, there was a donut roll-up in L.A., the names changed, but the employees, and donuts, remained the same.
An apple fritter.
It does have apple bits.
But what I like most is it’s firm, almost burned, and laden with a frosting of glaze. It’s like injecting dope. It tastes good and I get instantly high.
But there were no apple fritters at Tim Hortons last night.
And no glazed.
And while I was contemplating my choice, Jake ordered a Canadian Maple.
Canadian Maple? I’d never go for that. I never go for gold on top of my donut. But I’m in Canada! What exactly is a Canadian Maple donut?
Maple on top, cream in the middle.
Along with a hole, which looked glazed but wasn’t, and I was informed by Jake is called a “Timbit.” How cute!
That Timbit was swallowed in one bite.
And then I went for the Canadian Maple.
Maple frosting… I’ve been missing out! And matched with the cream inside… A veritable mouth orgasm, a subtle one, but those are the ones that last longest, that you never forget, like a good spaghetti carbonara.
I could have eaten twelve. If I was still in college, I would have bought a bagful. I held back from getting more, but I wanted to!
And as we sat there sipping our hot chocolate, I saw myself in a long continuum of Canadian donut scarfers. In from the biting cold, enjoying a respite.
As for the hot chocolate…
Everything’s different in Canada. Well, that’s an overstatement, some very basic things are different, and they’re better.
When you go to the parking garage, you insert your credit card on the way in, there is no ticket, the system remembers you! Seems kind of obvious, doesn’t it? Saves paper, you never lose your ticket… But never forget, the USA is the greatest country in the world!
And then there are the pop-tops on Tim’s hot drinks. They fold back and snap into place, you don’t cut your lip as you drink.
And when you’re done, you roll up the rim.
Now that’s something I’ve done for eons, when bored, when conversation continues, but sustenance has run out.
But at Tim Hortons, you roll up the rim to see if you’ve won a prize.
But I will tell you this is quite an enterprise. I spilled the remnants of my hot chocolate upon attempting this feat, which I finally accomplished, however, I did not win a prize.
If you’re flummoxed, go here, it’ll tell you how to play:
P.S. After Jake was honored by the MMF, we celebrated at the Soho House. Where I ran into more people than I thought I knew in Toronto. Well, not really, but one person I ran into was Jian Ghomeshi. I first met Jian outside the Troubadour, where his band, Moxy Fruvous, was opening for…I don’t remember. And I’m thinking to myself there’s already one Canadian comedy, art rock band, Barenaked Ladies, is there room for another? Turns out there wasn’t, at least not south of the border. So Jian created a radio interview show, and now it’s not only the most powerful way to sell musical artists in Canada, it’s syndicated in the U.S. Furthermore, Jian’s gonna do a live show in New York City, 800 tickets were sold at $35 a pop. So there is life after rock and roll. If you hit a wall, don’t be afraid to do a 180. If you’re truly that creative and inspired, there are other opportunities.