Fanny Farmer Family.

Thursday night and it's raining. It's my fourth day home, only. Sunday night late home from the airport, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and then Thursday.
It's hot and muggy all day. Then in the evening it rains.
We had supper, and I want to bake something.
Why not make doughnuts?
Doughnuts are a group effort. The recipe is from the Fanny Farmer cookbook, not that my Mom is big on recipes. An extra egg here, maybe less salt than they call for, and what's one and three-quarters cup times zero point five? It gets our heads all confused, not quite doubling the recipe.
Maritime music comes in from the speakers in the living room: David Myles and James Hill. It is happy music. And the rain keeps on falling.
We use organic milk and Dad knows the farmers, and eggs that Dad buys from a farming woman at work.
We let the dough chill for an hour and I go upstairs. And Dad is working at his desk and somehow the James Hill changes to Tchaikovsky. But I'm OK with that, too.
Finally it is time to fry them! We fill a frying pan with oil and heat it up. To test if the oil is hot enough we drop a piece of dough in and see if it sinks to the bottom and rises again.
The oil is hot enough. We have kneaded the doughnuts and shaped them into, well, doughnut shape.

Almost ready!

Not ready

We drop them in. They sink to the bottom and they turn from light to dark.
Then we flip them.
Then it's time to take them out and we coat them with sugar, cinnamon sugar, or maple sugar.

Oh! Maybe some coffee would be nice.
I brew the coffee, JustUs medium decaf. Roasted just a few kilometres from my university.
Soon there is a plate stacked full of doughnuts and four hungry people.
We eat doughnuts and watch Corner Gas.
Yum.

Being content in all circumstances is easy when these are the circumstances. 

Ready!