When I was serving as a Sheriff’s Chaplain, I fell into the pattern of taking treats to shift briefing meetings. A little treat at an early-morning or late-night gathering was always welcomed and it provided an opportunity for me to talk to the deputies as they prepared for their work. The simple fact that I was willing to take time to be with them at an hour that most of the rest of the community was sleeping was appreciated and helped to form a bond that was helpful when there was a crisis or a time when a chaplain was needed. Like many other aspects of ministry, a chaplain forms relationships in everyday living that become avenues of assistance when grief and pain appear.

One of the treats that I used to take was a variety of doughnuts from a local shop that produced a great version of the tasty, sweet confections. Once, when I took a couple dozen doughnuts to a shift briefing for patrol deputies, someone commented to me that they avoided doughnuts. “Cops and doughnuts is just too much of a stereotype for me,” was the comment that I heard. For some time after hearing that comment, I stopped bringing doughnuts. I would bring cookies or energy bars. I brought fresh fruit in season. Then, a couple of months later, another deputy said to me, “How come you stopped bringing doughnuts?” I guess the stereotype was more important to some cops than to others. One of my really good friends who is a police officer is also a really big fan of doughnuts. He is is prime physical condition and not a bit overweight at this point in his life, so eating an occasional doughnut doesn’t seem to pose a health threat.

The exact origins of doughnuts are not fully known, but Washington Irving, author of “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” and “Rip Van Winkle,” wrote about Dutch families and traditions inn “Knickerbocker’s History of New York.” “It was always sure to boast an enormous dish of balls of sweetened dough, fried in hog’s fat, and called doughnuts, or olykoeks - a delicious kind of cake, at present scarce known in this city, except in genuine Dutch families.” New York was first called new Amsterdam - a reference to its Dutch roots. Olykoeks - or oil cakes - is another name for the delicacies. The name doughnut comes from rolling the dough into small balls, or nuts, before frying.

When I was a school child, I heard the story of how doughnuts got their holes in the middle. It seems that a ship’s captain’s mother started baking the confectionaries in that shape so that they could be placed on the spokes of the ship’s wheel for temporary storage during stormy passages. I doubt that the story is authentic, but it captured my imagination in a way that I can remember it decades later.

Like many other comfort foods, there is a connection between doughnuts and times of poverty. Doughnuts don’t require many ingredients. Flour, sugar and some kind of oil or lard are all that is required. A bit of yeast or leavening adds to the texture and flavor. It is likely that the origins of doughnuts come from someone trying to provide a tasty treat for a hungry family at a time when there were few ingredients and only the basics were available.

The close cousin to doughnuts on the reservations is fry bread. I have friends who can wax eloquently about fry bread and about how their mother’s or aunt’s fry bread is vastly superior to any other food. In a reservation community it is impossible to think of a funeral lunch without fry bread and “Indian Tacos” are available at most pow wows, fairs, and other gatherings. Unlike pemmican or buffalo stew or wojape, however, fry bread is not an ancient indigenous tradition. Fry Bread, rather, comes from the lean reservation years. When Indigenous Americans were moved onto reservations they were promised that food for their families was guaranteed by the government. Instead of providing sustainable herds of Buffalo, however, there were government commodities. Many the commodity foods were unfamiliar to the people. They were processed and preserved in ways that were unfamiliar. Among the commodities that were provided were flour, sugar and lard. The result was that someone’s mother or grandmother or aunt figured out how to make fry bread. The sweet taste and texture of the bread was a success and before long it became a tradition. It is kind of like the saying, “If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” They took the ingredients they had and figured out how to make something good to eat.

I don’t know how many of our comfort foods have their roots in hard times, but I am willing to bet that there are quite a few. In our family macaroni and cheese is one of those comfort foods that can be made when there aren’t many groceries in the pantry. A bit of pasta and a bit of cheese produces a meal that children will eat and enjoy.

We have been thinking about comfort foods this week because we are planning a family dinner for Christmas Day. We like to ask each person who will be attending what special food that person would like to see on the menu and build our meal plan to include favorite foods. On Saturday, when Susan asked our grandchildren what foods they wanted, the first response was “candy canes.” The second was “marshmallows.” The third was “something chocolate,” which gave the obvious conclusion of hot chocolate with candy canes and marshmallows. That’s a great treat for children, but far from a well-balanced meal. I’ve been hankering for prime rib, but I’m pretty sure that the main course will be turkey for our traditional dinner. I usually ask for sweet potatoes and you’ve got to have stuffing and cranberries if you serve turkey, so the menu is starting to fill out a bit. I haven’t heard anyone mention pie or home-baked buns, but I’m pretty confident that those foods will make the menu as well. Our church has an 11:30 pm service on Christmas Eve, so I’ll be up at 1 am and it isn’t that hard to mix up a batch of bread dough and leaving it to rise before I head to bed. The smell of baking bread in the morning will make the house inviting when the rest of the family arrives.

May you find comfort not only in the foods of the season, but also in the stories of foods that you share.