I wrote her back that we’d adjust her order, noted the change on our order sheet, and opened the next email.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Can You Cut It?
I could tell from episode 1 you thought you were better than everybody else but now we all know you’re just a FRAUD.
I quickly hit Trash, then froze. The atole magic was gone.
At least this was an email and not a comment on the website that the whole world could see. Still, way more people watched Can You Cut It? last night than ever looked at our website, and they’d all heard me say what I’d done. And this is what they thought, that I was a fraud. It didn’t matter that I’d tried to make it right.
I selected the page of emails, all from addresses I didn’t recognize, then hovered over the trash.
Could I erase all these emails without reading them? Maybe I deserved to read them?
Click.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Recipe?
Can you please send me the recipe for your mocha cream?
Thanks,
Judy Pitzer
Omaha, Nebraska
I exhaled. That wasn’t scary. Maybe there were other emails like that one.
Click.
CHEATER. CHEATER. CHEATER. CHEATER…
Not that one. I dumped it in the trash, then clicked open the next one.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Just saying
I stared at the screen. I recognized the symbols as Hebrew. Did they show Can You Cut It? in Israel? And why was the subject line in English?
Then it came to me, the last time I saw Hebrew letters.
I copied the email text, then opened a new window, and went to Google Translate. In the first box, I selected Yiddish, in the second box, English. Then I pasted the Hebrew into the Yiddish box and held my breath while “translating…” flashed on the screen.
A few moments later, this popped up in the English box:
I just have one thing to say to you:
I could still crush you at everything except baking and getting stuck in elevators.
Respond with your cupcake recipe and all is forgiven.
I laughed. On a day I was sure there would be nothing to laugh about, I laughed.
If anybody had a right to be sending me scary email, it was Keya, and all she wanted was a cupcake recipe.
I hit Reply.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Just saying
Keya,
Thanks for clearing that up. Will send cupcake recipe soon. Reply with one for butter tea?
Any interest in Skype baking lessons? My rates are reasonable. Just kidding. I owe you.
Tris
After I hit Send, I went through the rest of my inbox.
I’m not going to lie. There was a bunch of hate mail, but I just dumped it right in the trash and didn’t think about it again.
Getting the email from Keya had made me realize something. Keya knew me, maybe not like Josh or Jeanine, but she did know me; those other people, the ones who sent the hate mail, didn’t. They’d never even met me. Why would I listen to someone who didn’t even know me? They were writing to some kid they’d watched on TV, and that kid was just what they saw, not who I was. I knew what I’d done was wrong and how to fix it. I didn’t need them for that or anything else.
When I was done with all the mail, I started working on the doughnut schedule, pairing our new dairy collective workers with different orders. I’d been at it only a short time when Jeanine and Zoe came in. Jeanine’s eyes were red and Zoe was holding her hand.
“What happened?”
“She’s not going to the Oval House. She’s sad,” Zoe said.
“It’s the White House. The Oval Office,” Jeanine said between whimpers. “And I’m not getting to see either.”
“You didn’t get the scholarship, huh?” I said.
“I…I…I missed the deadline!” Jeanine wailed.
“Wanna hear a duck-duck joke?” Zoe asked.
I couldn’t believe it. Jeanine had never missed anything in her life. “But how?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess it was because I was busy, helping Dad with the paper and writing articles. And then when we were in the city, we were out there every day with our signs, trying to get people to listen to our Petersville pitch.”
“You missed the deadline for your essay about making a difference because you were too busy making a difference?”
“Not funny.”
I went into the office and unpinned the “Twenty-Four Hours in Petersville” New York Times Travel article from the wall. By chance, one of the many, many people whose paths Jeanine had blocked on their way to work and held hostage while she did her whole Petersville spiel turned out to be a journalist.
I put the article on the table in front of her. “You did this. That’s making a difference.”
“I know,” she sniffed.
“That’s real.”
“I know.”
“So, that’s more important, right? Than a trip to the White House.”
“No.” She shrugged. “Maybe.”
Just then, through the window, I saw a large truck pull slowly into the parking lot. “Did you guys come with Dad?”
“And Mom. They’re in the cages.” Jeanine wasn’t a fan of the shipping containers and refused to call them cottages. “He got his first reservation so he’s all, you know…” She jiggled her hands in the air. “Yay.”
I went outside.
Josh was just riding up on his bike. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
The truck came to a stop and made a sound like it was exhaling.
“‘Devlin Pack and Ship,’” Josh read off the side. “Your dad get another container?”
“I don’t think so.”
Two guys wearing matching purple DPS shirts and baseball hats climbed out of the cab of the truck.
“Can we help you?” I called.
One of the guys walked over. Pretty sure his name was Otto since that’s what was stitched on his shirt pocket. “We’re looking for a…” he read off an iPad, “Tris Levin.”
Josh and I looked at each other. Hate package?
“Uh, that’s me.”
Otto squinted at me. “You got I.D.?”
“I’m twelve.”
Otto called over his shoulder, “Duke, no I.D.!”
Duke had the back of the truck open now and was lowering a platform with a crate the size of our station wagon to the ground. “Eh, he looks like a Tris.”
“Do you know how stupid that sounds?” Otto said.
“Sign says ‘The Doughnut Stop,’ don’t it?” Duke said.
“But maybe this isn’t the right ‘Doughnut Stop?’ Ever think of that, Einstein?”
“I’m pretty sure this is the only one, at least in Petersville,” I said.
“We had a real mess once with an Olive Garden delivery.” Otto whistled. “A real mess.”
“How many times I got to tell you? She gave me the wrong zip code,” Duke yelled. “You gonna help me get the dollies under this or what?”
“Um, I didn’t order anything this, you know, big. I think it might be a mistake.”
“Are you Tris Levin?”
“Yeah but—”
“Is this The Doughnut Stop?”
“Yeah but—”
“And are we in Petersville, New York, 125156?”
“We are.”
“Then no mistake.” He handed me a s
tylus and pointed to his iPad. “Sign here.”
“I think I should find out what it is first.”
“Oh, yeah, there’s a note,” Otto said. “Duke! Get the kid the note!”
Duke ripped something off the side of the crate and brought me a clear plastic envelope.
I unzipped the envelope and pulled out a typewritten letter:
Mr. Levin,
Funny story:
I was driving through Crellin about a month ago and stopped at a small market. To tell you the truth, I needed to use the bathroom. The woman at the register was kind and directed me to the facilities without insisting that I buy something, but it didn’t seem right not to. So on my way out, I looked for a small item to purchase.
I’d skipped lunch so the platter of baked goods on the counter caught my eye. None looked particularly appealing with one exception: a lone, sugar-covered, hole-less doughnut. I asked the woman what was inside. “Butterscotch cream,” she said. This meant nothing to me. I’ve been in this country for many years now, but I’d never even heard this word, butterscotch. The woman said it tasted a bit like caramel, which I like very much, so I decided to take a chance. I assumed I’d take a bite and throw the rest in the trash.
I was surprised when the woman handed me the doughnut wrapped in a napkin, no bag, as if she knew that I’d want to eat it right then and there, and to my surprise, she was right. The second I held it in my hand, I felt compelled to take a bite, something about the weight and the smell demanded that it be eaten that very second.
It was the best doughnut I’d ever tasted, and before I knew it, I’d eaten the whole thing standing right there at the counter.
“Good, right? They’re from The Doughnut Stop in Petersville,” the woman said. “We order as many as we can, and we always sell out. We’d probably be able to sell three times as many, but they’re small batch, you know.”
An amazing product made right here in upstate New York that keeps selling out? I had to learn more. Right then, I sent an email to my assistant back at the office asking him to get me all the information he could on The Doughnut Stop.
By the time I got back to my desk, my assistant was waiting for me with a stack of research and print-outs of two emails—the one you had sent me about investing in The Doughnut Stop and the one Majani sent you declining the opportunity. Quite by accident, my assistant had run a search for “The Doughnut Stop” on our internal server and the emails had popped up.
I must confess, I receive too many emails to review them all. I leave it to people I trust to decide which emails make it to my desk. In the case of yours, a mistake was made. In their defense, they’d never tasted the doughnuts.
I am hoping to rectify this mistake now. Please excuse the delay. I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Your friend,
Alhaadi Okello
“So?” Duke said. “What is it?”
“No way!” Josh had been reading over my shoulder and was jumping up and down.
I couldn’t believe it. The Tea King had bought us a Donut Robot?
We’d been doing much better with our doughnut collective than we’d done without it, but it was messy and complicated, and we still couldn’t meet demand. But the Donut Robot would change all that. We could give people jobs to run it around the clock, to make all different flavors. We could hire more drivers to deliver doughnuts all over the area.
“Come on,” Otto said. “We got it all the way here. You’re not going to tell us what’s inside.”
“A robot,” I said.
“Oh, okay. Sure. Somebody sent you a robot the size of a jeep. And you didn’t even know it was coming.” Duke rolled his eyes.
“Really,” I said.
“Oh, yeah?” Otto said. “What’s it do then, this robot? Like clean your house and drive your car?”
“Massage your feet?” Duke laughed.
“It keeps towns from disappearing,” I said.
Duke and Otto cracked up, but I didn’t care, because I knew it would—or we would with the robot’s help, and everyone else’s too. Petersville would never become a D-word.
So come taste The Petersville Experience yourself! Feel the rush you can only get from filling your own life-changing doughnut with any one of five mind-blowing creams. Sample the Pop Shop’s mystery flavor popcorn. Make your own mozzarella at the Stinky Cheese Farm Store. Watch the Wizard of Oz on a big screen while you get your hair cut in the style of your favorite character and make a yellow-brick road quilt. Have an award-winning chicken potpie dinner at The Station House, then spend the night in an old shipping container, and wake up to a breakfast of atole and pupusas. Who knows? Maybe we’ll even have a five-yolk egg to show you by then. Either way, we’re not going anywhere. I promise.
Keya’s Spiced Butter Tea
Ingredients
2 teabags of Rooibos, English Breakfast, or Earl Grey
½ tsp cloves
½ tsp cardamom
½ tsp cinnamon
¼ tsp turmeric
¼ tsp ground ginger
½ cup of coconut milk*
1 ½ tbsp unsalted butter (the better the butter, the better the taste; try grass-fed)
brown sugar
sea salt
Directions
1. Pour 4 cups of water into a saucepan and put on medium heat. Add spices to the water and stir until simmering.
2. Put heat on low. Add tea bags for 2–4 minutes.
3. Remove bags.
4. Add coconut milk and butter, gently stirring as the butter melts.
5. Turn off heat. Then sweeten with brown sugar to taste (1–2 tbsps).
6. Drop in pinch of sea salt and stir.
7. Pour into mugs and enjoy!
*Fun fact: under the rules of One-Ingredient Masterpiece, the coconut milk is the one ingredient that counted!
One-Ingredient Chocolate Mousse
Ingredients
4 ounces of good quality semi-sweet chocolate
3 ounces of water
Directions
1. Fill a large mixing bowl with ice cubes and nestle a smaller mixing bowl in ice.
2. Melt chocolate with the water on the stove on low.
3. When chocolate is smooth and combined with water, pour into the smaller mixing bowl in the ice, and whisk by hand or with a hand mixer continuously until mixture thickens (approximately 3–5 minutes).
4. If mixture doesn’t want to mousse up, melt a little more chocolate, add to the mixture, and whisk again. If mixture thickens too much, you can re-melt and start again.
5. Once mixture thickens, spoon immediately into serving bowls.
6. For extra wow, drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt. Gobble up!
Peekaboo Mocha Cream Cupcakes
Makes 12 cupcakes
Ingredients
Cupcakes:
1½ cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
3 eggs
1 stick unsalted butter (melted)
1 cup sugar
1 tbsp vanilla
¾ cup buttermilk
Mocha Cream:
1 cup unsalted butter (softened)
3 ½ cups of powdered sugar (sifted or whisked to remove clumps)
¼ cup of heavy cream
¼ cup of decaf espresso (room temperature)
2 tbsp cocoa powder
ground nutmeg
Cupcake Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Put cupcake liners in the cupcake tins.
3. Whisk together flour, salt, and baking powder.
4. Crack eggs into a small bowl and beat lightly.
5. Mix melted butter and sugar in a stand mixer on medium until thick. Pour in eggs
and vanilla. Continue mixing until combined.
6. Add a third of the flour mixture, a third of the buttermilk, then mix until just combined.
7. Repeat two more times until all flour and buttermilk is combined.
8. Fill lined cupcake tins ⅔ full.
9. Bake for approximately 15–20 minutes. Cupcakes are done when a toothpick comes out clean.
10. Cool before frosting.
Mocha Cream Instructions:
1. Cut butter into pieces, then cream in a mixer.
2. Add powdered sugar in batches, mixing until thick.
3. Combine heavy cream, espresso, pinch of nutmeg, and cocoa powder.
4. Add in batches to the frosting, mixing and tasting after each addition.
5. Stop when you reach your perfect mocha flavor. You may not use all the liquid.
6. If frosting seems like it’s getting runny, add a bit more powdered sugar to thicken.
Filling/Frosting Instructions:
1. Put sunburst tip on pastry bag.
2. Fill bag with cream.
3. Push tip into the center of the top of cupcake.
4. Fill with cream just until the top of the cake begins to pull apart, then spiral cream over the hole and the top of the cupcake. Enjoy!
Acknowledgments
I had many years to finish The Doughnut Fix. The Doughnut King was a very different experience. I had a deadline, and I was terrified. What if the words didn’t come when I needed them? Readers, teachers, librarians, booksellers, your support for The Doughnut Fix and your response to these characters drove my doubts away and inspired me every day I sat down to write. This book is for, and because of, you.
I am grateful to my editor Annie Berger for her unwavering belief in me and for her incredible editorial letter on the roughest of rough drafts. Thank you to everyone at Sourcebooks, in particular to Lauren Dombrowski and Sarah Kasman, and to Nina Goffi for another gorgeous cover. Thank you to my agent Carrie Hannigan everyone at HSG, and publicist Deb Shapiro for their tremendous advice and support.
My Vermont College of Fine Arts family, the Writers of the Lost Arc, and Cynthia Leitich Smith, your support keeps me afloat. Thank you in particular to Tim Wynne-Jones, Varian Johnson, and David Gill for your guidance on the early pages of this book.
The Doughnut King Page 20
