This week's column is a tale of love, lust, pleasure and passion — for doughnuts. Or as the sign-painting industry would apparently have us believe, "donuts." Warning: you may not want to read this is if you're hungry.
It's likely that all of us have dealt with some form of obsession or addiction in our lives, and one of mine for years was doughnuts — those delectable round (or twisted or elongated) globs of fried wonderfulness. Sadly, doughnuts and I have grown apart over the years, mostly because they were making me grow wider, but my desire lingers on. An occasional buttermilk dunker, iced long john or cruller will still make an appearance on my guilty pleasures log book.
One of my former co-workers used to tease me that wherever we were in the St. Louis area, I always knew how to find the nearest fresh doughnut, and in many neighborhoods that was true. If we were on Gravois in Affton, Federhofer's bakery was close by. Being around Watson and Laclede Station Road called for a stop at Lubeley's. Deeper in South County, the place to go was The Donut Stop on Lemay Ferry. Kirkwood meant McArthur's, even though I'm one of the old-timers who still call it Kirkwood Bakery.
Of course, if you're anywhere near the middle of the city, you're never too far from a couple of real St. Louis classics: World's Fair donuts on Vandeventer or the iconic Donut Drive-in on Chippewa, whose pedigree includes being located on the original Route 66. In between them is O'Fashion Donuts on Southwest near Kingshighway. Is this a great place to live or what? We also have Ray's on Olive, the Donut Palace in Ellisville, Baker's Dozen on Page and many others. Probably even some I don't know about. Yet.
As my mind has been wandering over memories of countless fried indulgences, I fondly recall many swell doughnut and pastry shops which are no longer with us. Some of them were upper-echelon places in their heydays, such as Armin's on Clayton Road at DeMun, Pratzel's (which I hear is coming back) and Schmiemeier's in Des Peres, who once hosted a 10- cent doughnut sale day that may have been the highlight of my summer that year.
Back when Highway 170 ended at Page, driving to the airport from Clayton meant having to use Woodson Road. At the time, there was a little doughnut-hole-in-the-wall place on Woodson in Overland, and it became a regular part of my travel itineraries. Pack the bag, stop for doughnuts, catch the plane. Also in those days, Ozark Airlines used to serve their own doughnuts on morning flights, so a sweet craving could be doubly sated. Or quadrupally . . . just like a bypass.
Forty years ago, when gas prices were much lower and my metabolism was much higher, it was no big deal to hop in the car and head out for a box of late-night doughnuts on a whim. One of our favorite destinations was Mister Donut on Olive Street Road, a little glass box of a building that I still can't drive past without some longing. We also had Dynasty Donuts on Brentwood, The Donut Hole on Tesson Ferry, and a prototypical old German bakery at Gravois and Loughborough, whose name has totally escaped me. A friend of mine worked there for a while long ago, and we used to go in through the back door for leftover freebies. Their specialties included sugar-coated jelly donuts that weighed about three pounds apiece.
Before you get the impression that I'm some Homer Simpsonesque tub of doughnut-worthy lard, let me add that I've moved on from my pastry fixation. After crossing a middle age threshold of sedentariness, I realized that the doughnuts and Danishes were starting to claim squatters' rights — they would enter my body and decide to take up permanent residence there. Fortunately though, I have all these wonderful pastry memories to cherish, and I can still drive past a doughnut shop slowly and take several deep breaths.
My wife's college roommate married a guy from France, and he could never, ever understand why anybody liked doughnuts. He thought they were just nasty and disgusting, but he'd gladly eat snails, mussels and frogs. And he thought Jerry Lewis was a comic genius. Go figure.
On the other hand, I had a client in Canada who proudly talked about having doughnut shops seemingly on every corner there. Based on my experiences in his country, that wasn't far from the truth. The Tim Horton's chain of Canadian doughnut emporiums has over 3,000 locations of its own. And they're quite yummy, eh? So in my mind, Heaven looks more like Toronto than Paris.
Steve Unger has been professionally writing for 30-plus years to help companies sell stuff. His Journal columns are a labor of love to salute the people, places and charm of St. Louis. If you'd like to share a memory of St. Louis or just drop him a line, he can be reached at stevethewordguy@aol.com.
