Detroit Love: Paczki Day!

Some cities call it Mardi Gras. Detroiters call it what it is. Fat Tuesday. Around here there's even another name for it. Paczki Day! Before the start of Lent, Polish Roman Catholic tradition dictates a clearing out of all the lard, sugar, eggs and fruit from the house. And as any Polish busza knows, lard + sugar + eggs + fruit = Paczki! I know it's still not clear for some of you. When I first moved to Michigan I didn't get it either. In fact, I didn't make the connection for a few years that when translated to English, Mardi Gras means Fat Tuesday. And it was a few years after that, that I embraced the paczki. Maybe embrace isn't the right word, more like devoured.

If you're really serious, you'll stand in a pre-dawn line at a bakery in Hamtramck and order two dozen, or, even better, you'll already have a Polish grandmother. But I'm not Polish. Or even Catholic. So I don't feel the need to piously uphold tradition. But no matter how you decide to celebrate the day, if you're buying paczki, you'll still have to wait in line. Polish, Catholic, or not.

On the way to taking the kids to school today, we made a quick stop at Sweetheart Bakery to join in the celebration. It is neither on the way or quick but it was closer than Hamtramck. Hey, when in Detroit, right?

Making their choice.

Other people called in their choices, but still had to wait in line.

Not a popular choice. They should call it Plum.

"Wait a minute," you say. "Is paczki just a jelly doughnut?" "No. It isn't," I say. "Why would I stand in line for a jelly doughnut? That's just crazy."

Speaking of how you say it, it's pronounced poonch-key.

They decided their father and brother might want one also.

A powdered sugar smile.

Yes, they were a little late. But Paczki Day only happens once a year, so . . .

. . . I went home, found the proper plate and the only sunny spot on the living room floor, and enjoyed my lemon jelly doughnut paczki.