Smith’s always puts a smile on your face
Going to Smith’s Bakeries is like going to church. It can be a religious experience. It makes you want to give thanks, burst into song and shout hallelujah.
A man can only stay away for so long. Then the Smith’s siren calls and when she does, resistance is futile.
Grandchildren prompted this visit. We had promised and when you promise doughnuts, kids do not forget. You can promise them six weeks ago that they’ll get doughnuts on Saturday and six weeks later when that Saturday rolls around they will remember and hold you to it. You might as well try to forget their birthdays.
We drove to Smith’s on Union Avenue on a cold winter morning. I’m happy people can buy Smith’s doughnuts all over town, in the newer neighborhoods, the fancier ones, but the bakery on Union has always seemed like home. It seems humble and grand at the same time.
The building is humble. It reminds me of our house on Lomita Drive, with a series of add-ons but when you walk in the door and see the two cases that come together in the shape of an L, the doughnuts might as well be saying, “Come in and feast your eyes.”
Box or bag? That’s your first decision. The solid middle-aged man with the mustache standing next to me was not wrestling with his decision. He was going with a box and it wasn’t a small box.
He carried himself with the authority of a crew chief on a construction site. His crew was about to get lucky because he was filling a large box with delicious doughnuts of all sizes, shapes, sprinkles and toppings.
On a Tuesday no less. Imagine. You go to work on a Tuesday, whether it’s in an office or on a job site building new apartments downtown, and somebody brings in doughnuts. They are a hero, employee-ofthe-month material, and that is a Tuesday you won’t soon forget.
After box or bag, the next decision is what kind of doughnuts? This becomes a meditation that involves walking up and down past the two display cases and then walking back.
No reason to rush. The doughnuts aren’t going anywhere. Nowhere that is except in your bag or box and then home to the promised land.
My favorite is the lemon-filled doughnut with powdered sugar on the outside. If you didn’t know what you’d ordered, when you bite into it and get the lemon filling, you’d have thought you’d chanced into a miracle. Even when you’re expecting it, it’s pretty spectacular.
No lemon-filled on Tuesday. They make those on Thursdays and Saturdays.
No problem, because for starters there are glazed doughnuts, sugar doughnuts, doughnuts with crushed pecans and cinnamon, chocolate doughnuts with walnuts, maple doughnuts, old-fashioneds (both glazed and topped with chocolate), maple bars, doughnuts with coconut sprinkles, crumb doughnuts, cinnamon rolls, Danish twists, doughnuts with coconut sprinkles, chocolate chips on top, cinnamon rolls, plain sugar doughnuts, and Pershings, which resemble old-fashioned honey buns.
There isn’t a bad choice in the case nor is there an easy one.
Margaret can help. Like many of the people who work at Smith’s, Margaret seems like she’s been there forever. Been there waiting for you to come in so she can make your Tuesday morning.
As we are standing there, I spot owner Jim Balmain. Is he still with us? Are doughnuts a fountain of youth? I know eating them feels like that.
We make our choices: a huge cinnamon roll for a small boy, a plain doughnut with sprinkles on it for a smaller girl and then two chocolate doughnuts for their cousins. Because it had been awhile, this crew chief ordered two: a doughnut with coconut flakes and a chocolate old-fashioned that was bigger than I remember.
I’m not sure who was happier, the crew chief or the crew.
Margaret taped the side of the box with narrow Scotch tape. I eyed the tape trying to figure out how hard it would be to open the box driving home while waiting at a light.
One of those doughnuts was destined not to make it home. One of those doughnuts did not.
I know better. Coconut shavings everywhere on seats, laps and sweatshirts, but knowing better and doing something about it aren’t always in sync. I brushed off the shavings and hoped Sue wouldn’t notice. If she noticed, I hoped she’d understand.
There is hardly anything better than the first bite of a doughnut. The second and third bites aren’t bad either but the first one is so good it almost promises immortality. You remember your first bite of a doughnut like you remember your first kiss.
We drove home. When you’re having doughnuts for breakfast, it is almost futile to have anything else. Do you think a piece of toast can stand up to a cinnamon crumb doughnut? A bowl of cereal, even if it’s a mix between Grape Nuts and Honey Nut Cheerios, to a chocolate old-fashioned?
Doughnuts are not breakfast. They are something more exalted. They are the ultimate treat and the ultimate reward.
Smith’s has been around for more than 75 years. A fountain of youth. A fountain of pleasure and one of the best things about living in Bakersfield.