Kids eat up lesson in making doughnuts

BROOKLINE -- As the 16 fourth-graders in Ted Wells's class at the Park School file into the school's dining hall on a recent Monday morning, it's hard to tell who is more excited -- the children, some of whom are literally jumping up and down, or Jonathan Katz in his chef's hat, perched in a corner of the room that he has converted into a makeshift kitchen.

A Park School parent, Katz is equipped with everything the class needs to make buttermilk, jelly- and cream-filled doughnuts. The real estate investor completed the Professional Chef's Program at the Cambridge School of Culinary Arts in 1992 and is an accomplished cook. He has been making doughnuts with his children, Nicola, 9, (one of Wells's students) and Alexander, 11, and their classmates since Alexander was in nursery school. "I thought kids should see that cooking was fun and easy and that men could do it, too," he says. "For little kids, dough is very tactile. And who doesn't like the rolling pins?" For that matter, who doesn't like doughnuts? (See story on Page E6.)

Katz has a large bowl filled with yeast dough that will be used with the jelly and "gooey cream" (also known as pastry cream); already measured containers of wet and dry ingredients for the buttermilk doughnuts; a small shaker full of flour, for dusting; a "squeezy thing" (pastry bag) full of pastry cream; raspberry jam that he boiled and strained the night before; several different-size round cutters ; and three rolling pins -- "Big Mama," "Skinny Winnie," and "Mini-Me." He and the kids have 50 minutes to make doughnuts.

Experience has taught the doughnut-maker to work with groups of four. While one group prepares doughnuts, Wells keeps the rest of the class busy with their regular schoolwork and "Mr. Katz's Delicious Doughnuts Tricky Worksheet," which includes a word search, math word problems, a crossword puzzle, and assorted questions, all with a doughnut theme. The kids seem totally engaged.

When the first group of four reports for duty, Katz points to an electric frying pan sitting on the window ledge, blocked off by several chairs, explaining that it is filled with "really, really, really hot oil" and he is the only one who can go near it. He also delivers a short primer on how yeast works to make dough rise. "It's alive!" exclaims Jamie Little, leaning in to get a better look at Katz's dough, which appears to be growing out of its bowl.

The kids turn the dough out onto the table, and Connie Blumenthal starts to roll it out. Once the dough is uniformly flat, everybody starts stamping out small circles. "It wants to get back into a ball shape," Little complains as he and "Mini-Me," the smallest rolling pin, wrestle with his dough.

When the second batch of students move in, Nicola Katz, Nelle Cabot, Gabby Marks, and Hannah Martin cut, fill, and press together the two halves of dough to make each filled doughnut. "It's so mushy," murmurs Marks as she pats her cream-filled creation, then makes the final cut with a flourish. The girls set their doughnuts on a baking sheet to rise a bit longer before handing them over to Katz for frying.

The third and fourth groups are responsible for the buttermilk doughnuts, which unlike the filled ones, have holes in the center and are made without yeast. Baking powder and baking soda cause these "cake" doughnuts to rise.

Jimmy Bell pours dry ingredients into a big bowl. Alexis Lelan adds wet ingredients, and Jonathan Lumley stirs. They pour the dough onto the table, and Katz kneads it a little before the kids roll it out, using the largest pin , "Big Mama." Then they start cutting. "I have been doing this since my kids were three," says Katz, "and every year they do more and I do less. You have to let them do it because if you do it, they're not learning anything."

While the last group works, Katz fries the rounds, about 90 seconds per batch. As they brown, an irresistible scent fills the air. The industrious doughnut-makers begin to grow a bit restless. Katz puts cooked doughnuts on a rack to cool briefly, then into napkin-lined baskets. At last, the impressively patient students line up, single-file, for one buttermilk and one filled doughnut each.

Initially, they eat in silence. Katz can't stand it. "What do you guys think?" he asks. "Do you like the doughnuts?"

A groundswell of requests for seconds says it all. By the time Alexander Katz stops by the dining hall between classes, there isn't a single doughnut left to sample.