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TODAY IS SHROVE TUESDAY, THE DAY before Lent. That means, Dear Reader, that in this Amish-dwelling area where I live, it is Fasnacht Day.

Goodbye, self-control!
Hello, large morsels of fat and sugar!

Late in the afternoon, my Yard Man showed up with a box of six fasnachts, and explained how he had followed a small hand-lettered sign that read "Homemade, deep-fat-fried Fasnachts" into the basement of an Amish home.

"Wow, it smelled good in there!" he told me, as he set the container on the kitchen counter.


"Uh, huh, the Devil's workshop," I murmured, but I took care not to let that Yard Man hear me. Instead I crowed about this absolutely irresistible treat, this fatty, pack-on-the-pounds delight! And when we sat down to eat our supper an hour or so later, and he commented on the missing fasnacht, I advised him he'd do well to eat one quickly while there were still any to be eaten!

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