Donuts, the Secret Ninja Fuel - Saturday Rambles and Recipe

Secret Ninja Fuel, otherwise known as donuts, were created this morning. I'm on call, so I can't wander far from home. The kitchen is not far. They are not the perfectly round blimps of dough that is the mass produced donut, some are (ahem) odd shaped and some of the icing got more on me than the donut (there is a reason I don't have a cooking show). But were they good.

click to enlarge, I double dog dare you

Yes. Homemade Boston Cream Donuts


If you have never eaten a homemade donut, you need to. Once you do you will never be able to eat an additive laden, mass produced one again. It's the reason I don't like Crispy Creams in those boxes at the store, they just taste like fluff and chemicals to me. It's the reason I can't get within 15 yards of a White Castle without getting queasy, for once you've had the best slider in the world there's no going back.

Which brings me to this Saturday's ramblings.

It was early this year. I was attending a very large geek convention. My squirrely best friend was one of the keynote speakers, though the event was sponsored by others. I was recovering from surgery and was still a bit bloated, sore and wobbly, but I was asked to be there, and I wasn't going to miss it for anything. There were presenters from all over the world, civilian, military, government and booths that would make any geek hyperventilate. After everyone gave their presentations, we milled around with colleagues at the expo, picking up cheap but cool geek gadgets offered to everyone there and looking at the really cool stuff we couldn't take home.


The first night after the festivities there was a industry hosted cocktail reception for a handful of VIP's (and their sidekicks) where beautiful women kept coming by with little bits of food. One such things was what looked like plain beef on a stick. I figured I'd better taste one to be polite as I wasn't really hungry. At lunch we left convention food to wander the city for something a little more interesting.

Kimchi fried rice? Word. . NO.

But we did have a nice lunch so that night I intended just to try a little one to be sociable.

OMG. What manner of bovine divine IS this?

The tiny and drop dead gorgeous Japanese server, who looked like she could either -

(1) walk on my back or
(2) snap me like a twig, said . . .

"It's KOBE Beef", with great pride. Kobe beef refers to cuts of beef from the black Tajima-ushi breed of Wagyu cattle raised to strict tradition in Hyogo Prefecture, Japan. The meat is unbelievably expensive and prized as a delicacy, renowned for its flavour, tenderness, and fatty, well marbled texture. It is rumored that these cattle are fed beer and ice cream and massaged daily with sake (me, next! pick me!) Actually they are fed grain fodder and brushed sometimes for setting fur. There's a reason it tastes as it does and true Kobe not "kobe style" steaks can cost hundreds of dollars. As my food budget is more navy bean and venison it would probably be a while (as in when the sun implodes) before I had it again.

Let's just say I had more than one. That woman and her tray orbited around me like I was my own planet (which I would have been if I'd eaten more) and every time she made the rounds I'd have to try one before they were all gone.

The next night there was cocktail reception in a big ballroom for some of the presenters and their guests, hosted and paid for by one of the industry companies that was sponsoring the whole shindig. Bill Clinton was there so the security was ultra tight. But I had the special pass and was in though I had to leave my Ninja toys behind in my hotel room. I also had to dress up, meet some folks who wanted to talk shop with me, and promise not to T.P. any current or former Democrats.


Maybe I'm the only person who feels this way but I normally feel like I'm I'm just a little kid occupying a grown up's body. I'm not a female James Bond, I'm not comfy in crowds, and never get invited to fancy parties outside of work, and I don't want to. I'm comfy in my secret kid identity. The kid has no titles, no badge, and isn't in any magazines or newspapers. I'm just B., Colonel D's little girl, baker of cookies, teller of bad jokes and science puns, owner of some cool toys, and I have some really cool playmates. I still cry when the mean girls are mean to me. I can still kick the snot out of a lot of the boys. So normally at these sort of events, I feel out of place, though I do a good job of blending in with the scenery. It's a science. But it's not my natural element, even if I can act like a grown up when required to protect and defend.

Yet also in the same flesh is an adult. One who can pull on my boots and in the middle of the darkest of nights, rise above slumbers respirations, and tackle the undefended throat of the unwary, tools in hand.

But most of the time, I just feel like a little kid.


So that night, I'm wandering around in grown up mode, doing my best to not trip in my high heels, when something caught, not my eye, but my nose. "But what was that wonderful aroma?"

In addition to all sorts of fancy appetizers, they had, not just Kobe Beef, but Kobe Beef sliders and a "mashed potato bar" where you got homemade mashed potatoes served in big wine glasses with a long spoon and everything you could imagine to put on them. They spared no expense. But with a glass of wine and several waters, the little black dress got too little and I had to find a ladies room. Unfortunately it was outside the super secret security, and my "pass" as it were, was in my little bag my squirrel partner was guarding. Inside with my credentials and cell phone. Damn.

They were NOT going to let me back in.

I said "But I'm Dr. B." I'm on the list". No ID, no way, green eyes, and cocktail dress notwithstanding. Look I understand. It's their job whether I agree or not. Finally I gave the security fellow the full green eye wattage and said "There's a clipboard there with my name and title on it. I doubt a stranger would know I'm on that clip board. I have ID at my table you can see if you want to send someone in to get it. And to prove I just came from inside, I'm going to breathe on you. You'll understand".

He smiled and looked at me puzzled at that last statement as he picked up the clipboard. I gently leaned in towards him, inches from his lips and gently released my breath. He exclaimed "KOBE BEEF SLIDERS!!!

I was so in.

Look, the world is full of fast food, and easy decisions and safe adventures. You can walk the path most traveled, safely and with predictable tastes and textures. and the acceptance of mainstream society. Or you can fuel up with Ninja fuel and see where life takes you. Sometimes you get the stuffing unexpectedly knocked out of both your life and your heart, yet you often find something truly unique and wonderful along the way.

I know how I want to live. Some things are worth the price.