PETER BUFFA -- Comments & Curiosities

Bulls and bears. You know, the stock market -- Dow Jones, NASDAQ, etc.

Some interesting news from Wall Street this week. But first, a

disclaimer. Some of you might think you’re about to get some investment

advice or an inside scoop. Let me disabuse you of that notion as quickly

as possible.

What I know about the stock market could be inscribed on the head of a

pin with plenty of room left over for “Atlas Shrugged.”

I took one foray into the market years ago and it wasn’t pretty. You’ve

heard the term “day trader?” I was a “blink trader.”

Anyway, in the Microsoft antitrust case, Uncle Sam told Bill Gates that

he did a bad thing, and to go to his room and not package any more

products together until dinner. That sent the NASDAQ exchange -- where a

lot of tech stocks are traded -- into a tailspin. On paper, Bill lost

some $11 billion, which is a lot, in one day.

I hate it when that happens. Just think how you’d feel if 3% of your net

worth went up in smoke.

Speaking of things that rise and fall, ever heard of Krispy Kreme? Yes,

yes, I know. Some of you are howling with indignation, horrified at the

notion that there could actually be a person on this earth who hasn’t

heard. But just in case, they’re doughnuts.

On Wednesday, the stock market got a bit of badly needed levity when

Krispy Kreme went public. Everyone is watching to see if the shares hold

up as well as the doughnuts. There were endless puns on the evening news

about “dollars to doughnuts,” etc., etc.

The first Krispy Kreme store opened in 1937 in Winston-Salem, N.C., and

was mostly a Southern phenomenon until more recent years, when it grew to

140 stores in 20 states.

But whether they’re Dixie chicks or high plains drifters, Krispy Kreme

lovers become hooked at a very early age and can never be rehabilitated.

To be honest with you, I’d never heard of the things until a few months

ago. I was driving along Imperial Highway in La Habra and noticed a

doughnut store with a funny name.

Oddly enough, I saw a story on a news magazine that very night about

Krispy Kreme doughnuts, whose fans were so loyal they’d make the average

cult leader proud. Two of the people interviewed said they had made

career decisions based on whether or not a job offer was in a city with a

Krispy Kreme.

To Kremers, life is a random sequence of meaningless events that separate

one doughnut from the next. The Krispy Kreme gold standard is the glazed

raised, which was the only kind they made for years.

Apparently, Kremers achieve an even more intense state of nirvana when

the little things are warm. Kreme junkies gladly wait in lines that

stretch down the block for the next warm batch.

With one bite, their eyes roll up in their heads, their arms reach

skyward, and they begin speaking in tongues. Believe me, I have learned

my lesson. I will never ever say that I hadn’t heard of Krispy Kreme

again. There is even a legendary Krispy Kreme doughnut maker called the

“Ring King Jr.” stored in the Smithsonian.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not belittling people who obsess over food. If I

ever threw stones about that, I’d be severely injured by flying glass.

It’s just that doughnuts are not my thing, which is strange because when

it comes to food, very few things are not.

If we shift this discussion to Ferrara’s pastry shop in Little Italy, for

instance, the bonding with Krispy Kremers is immediate. Lightly running

my hand along the glass on the pastry counter is usually the last thing I

remember before the seizure. It doesn’t even phase my wife anymore. She

just asks people to stand back and shouts for someone to bring a cannoli.

But there’s no question doughnuts are an American institution. However,

if historical accuracy matters, they are actually a Dutch institution --

and they’re older than these United States by almost 200 years.

On their flight from England to the New World, the pilgrims had a 13-year

layover in Holland, where a popular confection was a small ball of sweet

dough fried in animal fat, not unlike what we call “doughnut holes.” The

Dutch called them o7 olykoekf7 , or “oily cake.”

The pilgrims took one bite and said, “Hmm, these are Gouda.”

But to them, the balls of dough looked like nuts, so they started to call

the things “dough nuts.”

When the Mayflower was finally ready to board, William Bradford called

everyone together and said “Two carry-ons per pilgrim, don’t forget the

doughnuts, let’s go.”

In 1809, Washington Irving paid tribute to the wildly popular doughnut in

his tongue-in-cheek “Knickerbocker’s History of New York” -- “sweetened

dough fried in hog’s fat and called dough nuts or olykoeks.”

We can thank the Pennsylvania Dutch (who are actually German) for what we

call doughnuts. They didn’t care for the soggy centers of the original

dough nuts and invented the lighter, hole-in-the-middle version that we

know and love.

They called them o7 fastnachtsf7 and served them on Fastnacht Day, the

Tuesday before Ash Wednesday, as the last sweet treat before Lent.

And now, a confession. I finally tried a Krispy Kreme the other day and

it was, um ... OK. But let me quickly add -- before the deluge of hate

mail, ridicule and outright contempt is unleashed -- it wasn’t warm.

In fairness, I will journey to La Habra, or the new Krispy Kreme in

Orange, dutifully take my place in line and try the real deal in all its

still-warm glory.

If I enter an altered state of consciousness and undergo some sort of

deep-fried epiphany, you will be the first to know.

I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Fridays. He

can be reached via e-mail at o7 [email protected] .