I love donuts.

I have for a long, long time.

If there are two foods I can never live without, it is most likely donuts and pizza.

Donuts take me back to fond memories of going to the local bakery to pick up Sunday’s breakfast treat for us if we were good at church.

It was also a munchie staple in high school. But soon the fresh-donuts-from-a-bakery optioned faded. My local Montgomery Donuts locations dried up and I was forced into appreciating a bag of Hostess donettes. But they were a hit-or-miss proposition – you never knew (and still don’t) how long a bag of donettes has been sitting on the shelf.

In 1995, I moved to North Carolina.

And I was introduced to the glory that is Krispy Kreme.

So last weekend, during a lull between skate sessions at the park in Durham and makeshift water polo games at the pool, I took my boys on a field trip.

And introduced them to the glory that is Krispy Kreme.

Oh, it’s not that they don’t know the genuine satisfaction one can get from that first bite of a freshly-glazed donut – the Krispy Kreme is a local institution that shows up at every fundraiser, be it for school fairs, soccer tournaments or street fairs. But they had never been to ground zero, to the corner of Person and Peace Street in Raleigh, where you can see the process of making a donut through cheek-and-finger streaked glass.

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