In honor of March arriving so suddenly and catching everyone by surprise (truth be told, I thought leap day was yesterday) (I mean leap year) (whatever), all that to say – I’d like you to meet someone. This is the Donut Ball. Before you lose consciousness, let me assure you that usually the donut coma only lasts for about an hour, possibly more if there’s a fire going in the fireplace and Michael Buble softly playing and the dishwasher whooshing you into a nap. Possibly even more if you dunked your donuts in a creamy latte. I promise you will wake up with warm fuzzies in your soul and sugar crumbs in your hair. But let me REALLY tell you about this here beauty. The Donut Ball. He has a golden brown fried exterior and a slightly spiced, warm, cakey interior. By the way, he is a he, don’t you think? As if that fried wonderful cakiness wasn’t enough already. As if. In addition, he’s obviously rolled in cinnamon sugar at least twice. He’s bigger and therefore wayyy yummier than his cousin Donut Hole which is why I reserve the right to call him a Donut Ball. Holla all my donut ballas! And apparently I also reserve the right to be annoying. What are the symptoms of withdrawal again? 4.8 from 9 reviews I think I need an intervention.
