Glazed Doughnut Holes

The last week before school starts, and I am ironing blouses and organizing binders and reviewing my syllabi with the particular intensity of a woman who knows that this year will be harder than any year before it and who intends to meet the difficulty with preparedness, because preparedness is what I have instead of certainty, and certainty is not available to anyone right now, so preparedness will have to do.

I set up my classroom on Thursday — desks spaced six feet apart, plexiglass shield at the front, hand sanitizer on every surface, windows propped open, my chalkboard (yes, still the chalkboard, they will pry it from my cold dead hands) freshly cleaned. The room looked different. Emptier. The spacing made it feel like a hospital ward more than a classroom, and I stood in the center of it and thought: I have taught in this room for decades. I have taught "Gatsby" and "Mockingbird" and Dickinson and Hurston in this room. I have watched students cry and laugh and argue and fall asleep in this room. The room is the same room. The desks are just farther apart. The teaching is the same teaching. The words are the same words. I will stand behind the plexiglass and I will teach, because that is what I do, and a piece of clear plastic between me and my students does not change what I do, it just changes what I see — their faces, masked, only the eyes visible, and I will learn to read the eyes the way I have always read the faces, because reading closely is my profession.

I made a back-to-school challah — I have made this every year since David started kindergarten in 1989: a challah baked on the Sunday before school starts, eaten at dinner as a kind of secular blessing over the new academic year. Thirty-one years of back-to-school challah. This year's was braided with extra care, because the year deserves extra care, because the students deserve extra care, because everything this year requires more of everything, and I have it. I have more. I will give it. The challah is braided. The classroom is ready. The year begins.

I share the challah recipe with family every year, but I’ve had more than a few readers write in asking for something a little less demanding when the Sunday before school is already chaotic — and honestly, this year of all years, I understand that. These glazed doughnut holes carry the same spirit: warm, golden, made by hand, eaten together as a small ceremony before the hard work begins. Roll them out, glaze them while they’re still warm, and let the sweetness do what sweetness does — mark the moment, hold the room together, say without words that this year, too, is worth celebrating.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min (plus 1 hr rise) | Servings: 8 (about 32 doughnut holes)

Ingredients

2 1/4 tsp active dry yeast (1 packet)
3/4 cup whole milk, warmed to 110°F
1/4 cup granulated sugar, divided
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1/2 tsp fine salt
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
2 tbsp unsalted butter, softened
1 large egg, room temperature
Vegetable oil, for frying (about 4 cups)
For the glaze: 2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1/4 cup whole milk
1 tsp pure vanilla extract

Instructions

Activate the yeast. In a small bowl, combine warm milk, 1 tsp of the granulated sugar, and yeast. Stir gently and let stand 5–10 minutes until foamy.
Make the dough. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, remaining sugar, salt, and nutmeg. Add the yeast mixture, softened butter, and egg. Stir until a shaggy dough forms, then turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 6–8 minutes until smooth and slightly tacky.
First rise. Place dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with a clean kitchen towel, and let rise in a warm spot for 1 hour, or until doubled in size.
Shape the doughnut holes. Punch down the dough and roll into a log. Pinch off pieces about 1 inch in diameter and roll each between your palms into a smooth ball. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Cover loosely and let rest 20 minutes.
Heat the oil. Pour vegetable oil into a heavy-bottomed pot to a depth of 2 inches. Heat over medium to 350°F. Use a thermometer — steady temperature is the difference between golden and greasy.
Fry in batches. Carefully lower 6–8 doughnut holes into the hot oil. Fry 1 1/2–2 minutes per side, turning once, until deep golden brown. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on a paper-towel-lined rack. Repeat with remaining dough, monitoring oil temperature between batches.
Make the glaze. Whisk together powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla in a medium bowl until completely smooth. The glaze should fall off a spoon in a slow, thick ribbon.
Glaze while warm. Drop warm doughnut holes into the glaze, turn to coat, then lift out with a fork and return to the rack. Let set 5 minutes. Serve immediately — they are best the day they are made, still faintly warm, the glaze just set.

Nutrition (per serving)

Glazed Doughnut Holes — A Sweet Ritual for the First Day