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Glazed Doughnuts — Because the Oil Always Lasts

Hanukkah, night three. The menorah has three candles plus the shamash, and the dining room is beginning to glow with the cumulative light that builds each night, candle by candle, the way hope builds — not all at once, not in a blaze, but gradually, incrementally, one flame at a time until the room is bright enough to read by, which is, I think, the point: the light accumulates until you can see.

David brought the children for the first night — the whole family, all four grandchildren, and the latke consumption was extraordinary. Ethan ate nine latkes. Nine. I have been tracking Feldman grandchild latke consumption since 2016, and nine is a new personal and family record, surpassing his own previous record of seven set last year. I told him he was a champion. He said, "Can I have one more?" I said, "Always." Sophie ate six. Noah, two and a half, ate four and wore three. Hannah, ten months, ate a small piece of latke with the experimental curiosity of a baby encountering her first fried food, and I watched her face as the taste registered — the salt, the crunch, the oil — and her face did the thing that faces do when they encounter something new and excellent: it opened. She opened. She reached for more. I gave her more. The chain begins with the reaching.

Marvin watched the candle-lighting. He did not light them — has not lit them in two years — but he watched, and his eyes reflected the flames, and the reflection was beautiful, the flames in his eyes, the light in the darkness of his disease, and I thought: even now. Even now there is light. Even now the oil lasts. Even in a mind that is going dark, the candle reflects, the light gets in, the miracle persists.

After a night like that one — nine latkes for Ethan, four for Noah, and Hannah’s face opening like a flower at her first taste of something fried and golden and good — I found myself thinking about oil, and about what oil means in this season. The latkes were gone before I could blink, but the spirit of the thing lingered: that particular Hanukkah alchemy of hot oil transforming something plain into something extraordinary. So the next afternoon, while the menorah rested and the house still smelled of the night before, I made doughnuts — glazed, pillowy, fried in that same sacred oil — because if the miracle is that the oil lasted, then the very least we can do is keep using it.

Glazed Doughnuts

Prep Time: 30 minutes + 1 hour rising | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 50 minutes | Servings: 12 doughnuts

Ingredients

  • 2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)
  • 3/4 cup warm whole milk (110°F)
  • 1/4 cup granulated sugar, divided
  • 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
  • 1/2 teaspoon fine salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 2 large egg yolks
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • Vegetable oil, for frying (about 4 cups)
  • 2 cups powdered sugar
  • 1/4 cup whole milk or heavy cream
  • 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract (for glaze)
  • Pinch of salt (for glaze)

Instructions

  1. Activate the yeast. In a small bowl, combine warm milk, yeast, and 1 tablespoon of the granulated sugar. Stir gently and let sit for 5–10 minutes until foamy and fragrant.
  2. Make the dough. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, remaining sugar, salt, and nutmeg. Add the yeast mixture, egg yolks, softened butter, and vanilla extract. Mix until a shaggy dough forms, then turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 6–8 minutes until smooth and slightly tacky.
  3. First rise. Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with a clean kitchen towel or plastic wrap, and let rise in a warm spot for 1 hour, or until doubled in size.
  4. Cut the doughnuts. Punch down the dough and turn it out onto a floured surface. Roll to 1/2-inch thickness. Using a 3-inch round cutter (and a 1-inch cutter for the holes), cut out doughnuts and holes. Re-roll scraps once. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet.
  5. Second rise. Cover loosely and let the cut doughnuts rest for 20–30 minutes, until they puff noticeably.
  6. Heat the oil. Pour about 3 inches of vegetable oil into a heavy pot or Dutch oven. Heat over medium to 350°F, using a thermometer to maintain a steady temperature throughout frying.
  7. Fry the doughnuts. Working in batches of 2–3, carefully lower doughnuts into the oil. Fry for 60–90 seconds per side, until deep golden brown. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on a wire rack set over a paper-towel-lined baking sheet. Fry doughnut holes for 45–60 seconds, turning frequently.
  8. Make the glaze. Whisk together powdered sugar, milk or cream, vanilla extract, and a pinch of salt until smooth and pourable. Adjust consistency with more milk (thinner) or powdered sugar (thicker) as needed.
  9. Glaze and serve. While doughnuts are still warm, dip the top of each one into the glaze, letting the excess drip back into the bowl. Set on the rack for 5 minutes until the glaze sets. Serve immediately — they are best the day they are made.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 285 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 110mg

Ruth Feldman
About the cook who shared this
Ruth Feldman
Week 297 of Ruth’s 30-year story · Oceanside, New York
Ruth is a sixty-nine-year-old retired English teacher from Long Island, a Jewish grandmother of four, and the keeper of her family's Ashkenazi recipes — brisket, matzo ball soup, challah, and a noodle kugel that has caused actual arguments at family gatherings. She lost her husband Marvin to early-onset Alzheimer's and now cooks his favorite meals for the grandchildren, because the food remembers even when the people cannot.

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