Romanticize 6: Hit the Road
Assign yourself a food-based adventure.
There are days when I wake up feeling hopelessly listless, and no option for how to occupy my time feels right. A friend likes to call this mood “The Empties,” which I think sums it up beautifully. All the things that normally suit—a good book, a streaming film or show, a long walk, cooking something yummy, a nap—fall completely flat when contemplated. These are very much sit-and-stare days, for me, and they feel wasted and disturbingly depression-adjacent.
Because I tend to be action-oriented, I’ve found that giving myself an assignment that gets me outside the house is the best way to combat these blah moments. It requires some light planning, yes, but the structure will make you feel supported and driven toward a goal (and sometimes even the prep work is enough to spark excitement). In this case, I opted for a food-centric version of the tried and true practice, but your (literal) mileage may vary. For today’s Romanticize, let’s hit the road—whether it be in your car or via public transportation—to beat the blues.
The Romanticize
Take yourself on a themed taste-testing adventure.
The Advice
The goal is to pick one food item and see how different people make it, then choose your favorite. You’ll want to procure at least three items so your comparison game has sufficient options. Make sure they’re all as similar as possible, to keep the playing field level (stick with all one kind of latte, all margherita pizzas, all ham and cheese subs, etc.)
Other food comparison ideas: apples, pies, bagels, cider (truly, the sky’s the limit!) Get thee to restaurants, grocery stores, cafes, and farmstands and shop local! This is a fun thing to get family and/or friends in on, as well, if you want to have a lively debate (or you don’t want to find yourself tasked with eating twenty cider donuts before they go stale, ehem).
As I mentioned, you can use this idea for non-food fun, as well (for example: compare the mums at various garden stores, ceramic mugs at makers’ markets, or foliage at local parks and trails).
When you’ve got one item in mind, it’s good to have a plan—I called ahead to a bunch of local farm stores to make sure they had my pick (cider donuts) in stock, then created a custom Google map of all the locations that I could follow as I drove (this helped me visit each spot from furthest to closest so I didn’t waste time and gas). You could also just sketch out a map or make a list of the spots you want to hit in order of preference.
The Inspiration
I grew up in a magical place of open farmland and apple orchards (otherwise known as Upstate New York) where cider donuts are practically a religion. For those not yet inducted into this deeply devout club, a proper cider donut is made from a spiced batter and rolled in cinnamon and sugar while it’s still hot. Bonus points for serving it with a piping hot cup of apple cider, for dunking. The result tastes like autumn and holidays and childlike glee.
Just about every farmstand and cidery near my house had them—you’d stop by, the hot oil scent of cooking dough enveloping you, and let your eyes go unfocused staring at the mounds of crispy-browned goodness lined behind glass cases. The counter folks would place your order in a small white wax-coated paper bag—if you got more than one and they lasted the car ride, the cinnamon-spice scent would linger in your hair and on your clothes for the rest of the day.
Unsurprisingly, cider donuts are a non-negotiable fall staple for me, but it’s been hard to find anything even remotely close to the authentic kind I was raised eating. Too often they’re overly heavy, not spiced, or (gasp!) not rolled in any coating.
But I figured I’d give good ol’ rural New Jersey its fair shot and check out the local options, so today I’m tasking myself with sampling the apple cider donuts offered at my three closest farm stores. It’s a flippin’ glorious sunny fall morning, just crisp enough outside to pinken your cheeks but not so cold that your nose goes numb. I take longer routes to enjoy meandering back roads, blink-and-you-miss-them old towns, and rolling hills with mountain views beyond. The leaves have just about fallen from all the trees, but there’s still a bright orange, yellow, and red carpet beneath them; an inverted sunset. I crack the window and the scents of wood fire and musky-sweet leaves waft through my car.
Once I’ve hit every spot and retrieved my (copious, yikes—nobody sells singles out here!) samples, I lay them out on a plate and number each. Visually speaking, number three seems the most authentic—a cider donut should be small, the size of a pre-teen’s fist. Two just looks naked and blasphemous to me. One is fine, if a little large.
Taste-wise, none of them are quite right, sadly. One gets points for texture and spice, two has a surprisingly light and fluffy dough, and three’s coating is spot on—but that’s about where it ends. If pressed, I’d say three wins for all-around near-accuracy. There are some storied spots just over the river in Pennsylvania, so I think I’ll try those for round two on my next Empties day. Until then, who’s gonna come help me eat all these?!
Update: I shared the love with my landlords, so now all these leftovers are their problem, too!
I’d love to know the results of your romanticize—feel free to share your experience in the comments, or tag me on Instagram. Until next Wednesday, fellow romantics!