When I was nine, I used to spend Fridays after school at my cousin Dylan's house while my parents worked late. It was the best arrangement in the world as my cousin and I were very close. We would ride the bus to his home together and as I was not a regular bus rider even this was a treat. I somehow managed to change out of a Catholic school girl's uniform without revealing anything--okay, much!--so that we could get to playing sooner. At his house, we would dash inside; Dylan to his room to change and me to the bathroom to --well you know why! Bus rides are bumpy!
My cousin's house adjoined a large parking lot with a giant-larger-than-a-nine-year-old double rock pile at one end of it. But, we'd steer past this treat in search of another one. Just across the parking lot and across one street was another Catholic church (the very small town I used to live in a long time ago had three at one time, can you believe it? Now they are consolidated into one) and on Fridays the church ladies made and sold Fried Dough. Dylan and I would each get a waxed paper-ful of this delicious stuff and then, we'd retreat to the double rock pile and tuck in the back of it for it became a fort, you see, just right for protecting us while we were vulnerable to the Bad-Guy-of-the-Week because we were eating our after school snack. It seemed whoever finished their Fried Dough first was the one whose imagination gave rise to nemesis. With only a cursory swipe of sugared hands on clothes Dylan and I launched ourselves into our game.....until it was time to come inside and build amusement parks out of clay.
I miss my cousin Dylan. He died a couple years ago and the oddest little things will bring back memories I have of him. When I woke up yesterday and decided to make zeppoli it was only so that my children would have a treat to start the school week off with. But as the zeppoli fried, the smell tickled my memory. When I finally bit into one, they were exactly the Fried Dough of my childhood. My memory of running across the parking lot with Dylan to fetch some came flying back and I was glad to greet it.
Normally, I'd eat some terrible Fiber One Original for breakfast but not that morning. That morning I ate two pieces of Fried Dough. One for me......and one for Dylan.
