BY MAVIS LINNEMANN When I was in middle school, my dad used to drive me to St. Ursula Villa School in Cincinnati every morning before he turned around and went to work in Northern Kentucky. Sometimes, on Fridays, we would leave home a little early and stop by Remke’s, our local grocery store, to pick up fresh donuts on our way to school. This early-morning Friday pit stop was my dad’s way of saying: We made it through the workweek, and we deserve a treat. In my mind, donuts, my dad, and well-deserved rewards will always go hand in hand. Even today, if you talk to my dad about those Friday morning donut runs, he’ll tell you how I would eat each donut with overwhelming joy, and use my fingers to spread the jelly or cream filling so I would get some in each marvelous bite. (I never claimed to be a neat eater. Truth is, I do kinda play with my food. I like to get down and dirty with it to see what it’s made of.) These middle-school memories are just the beginning of my long love affair with donuts. MORE