Pumpkin doughnuts and peace on Earth

“Are they warm?”

Those words still echo in my mind.

Dreams of a pastry-filled galaxy swirling around me while my spaceship crashes through doughnuts, dodging slices of pies and turnovers. Faces fly at me asking the question, “Are they warm?” over and over again wake me up in a cold sweat.

Coming back to reality I lay my head down on my firm pillow, realizing after a quick glance toward my clock that I’m mere hours away from making the top-secret recipe for pumpkin doughnuts. A doughnut people have come from all over Washington and neighboring states to eat.

After graduating college with my bachelor’s degree in journalism I thought my road would lead to a professional writing job, but no such luck. I found my future lay at Harvest House north of Spokane, in Green Bluff.

The interview was intense, and as I answered the questions I could feel the job slipping through my hands. I couldn’t blame them. Why does a wannabe journalist want to work at a farm?

After much deliberation on the part of the employers I was told I started the next day. I was elated because I was once again part of the working class.

On day two I was asked by the kitchen manager if I would be interested in making their famous pumpkin doughnuts. Pumpkin doughnut duty was a big deal. I had heard about these enchanting treats. I replied, “Sure, I would love to.”

Oh how those words would haunt me.

I was warned repeatedly from co-workers who had worked the October Harvest Festival previous years I was going to be shocked at the people waiting in line for an hour for one of these Ding-Dong-size, spiced treats.

For the summer I spent time in the shade listening to great bands and smelling the tantalizing aromas coming from the lunches being served in our kitchen, all the while making cherry, huckleberry and pumpkin doughnuts. For a small moment I could see the longing folks had for pumpkin doughnuts, but again I was not buying into the hourlong line scenario.

Fast forward to the first week of harvest season on Green Bluff; my co-workers weren’t lying. It was like a horror movie, “Attack of the Pumpkin Doughnut Customers.”

“Do you have pumpkin doughnuts today?!”

“Oh my gosh, Bob, look, it’s pumpkin doughnuts!”

“Come on, kids, get in line. They’re making pumpkin doughnuts!”

And, never to be understated, “Are they warm?”

For some, pumpkin doughnuts were the love that got away, a peace in their soul. Once their dozen doughnuts were bagged, the handoff put a grin on their faces and pep in their steps.

“I made it to the front of the line,” a young woman shouted after a half-hour wait one afternoon, fist raised high in the fall breeze.

I looked at her. No, I stared at her.

I thought, “You’re kidding, right? This is a doughnut.”

I truly believe those who received their bags of fried dough could have sold them for much more to the people waiting at the end of the line. Perhaps a quick turnaround on Craigslist would’ve been worthwhile for those looking for extra holiday cash.

Needless to say, my co-workers were spot on. From 8:15 a.m. Saturday and Sunday to 6 p.m. and sometimes later I made the doughnut dough and handed it off to be cranked out by the Yoda of pumpkin doughnuts, one of my bosses. A four-member team effort was used to bring the doughnuts from imagination to life.

Men, women and children stood in the rain, wind and blustering cold to get their hands on pumpkin doughnuts. Some stood in line and only bought three pumpkin delights. I was shocked at their discipline and commitment to wait it out.

Amount didn’t matter once they reached inside their bag and lifted the golden ring to their mouths. At that moment the world was perfect. Peace had finally rained down on Earth.

After a month of serving more than 85,000 doughnuts I’ve been able to sit back and reflect on my time spent at the best job I’ve had so far. And though I hope to go further than making doughnuts in my life, I plan on helping make people’s harvest season a little more joyful when I make these delightful ditties, perhaps next year.

After bidding farewell to my mixer and ingredients I can be happy to say they were always warm … until the cold fall air got to them.

Sorry, folks.