I smell like donuts

Andrea warned me not to hang my jacket in the kitchen.  "You'll smell like donuts", she said, as if that were a bad thing.  She was about to show me how to make their famous cider donuts.

The donut machine is well worn.  The oblong fryer accepts dough that is pressed out of a big metal bowl with a hole in the bottom that makes perfectly shaped donuts.  One at a time, they plop into the hot oil while the large bowl sways from side to side.  As they make their way through the trough an ascending conveyer pulls these sought after treats up and out of the snapping hot oil and gently drops them into a tray.  They must be rolled in cinnamon sugar before they cool, a quick plop and flip.  There are many donut addicts traipsing around the hills of Putney.  Daily visits are made as soon as the door opens at 8 continuing on through the afternoon. The donut-aholics skulk into the store sheepishly buying one, two, a half dozen or more.  Please don't tell my husband/wife/significant other they plead.  Of course, I promise to keep their secret.  It's my pleasure because these are the sweetest of secrets. 

But, the scent of fresh donuts is not the only aroma that sweetly sails out of those kitchen doors.  On any given day your snoffer could sniff up yummy smells of apple pie, ginger plum upside down cake, cinnamon rolls or spicy pumpkin scones.  The smells waft out of the old packing house seemingly pulling people in from off the highway (aka West Hill Road).  Drive that way, you'll see.  Try a donut. I'm officially trained.  Not only that but, I happily hang my jacket in the kitchen the mornings I'm called in to help out.  Sniff me, I smell like work. Yum!