My Grandpa on my Mom's side of the family, worked for his brother's bakery ...doing deliveries.

As the story goes, as a traveler was passing through town ...he stopped at the bakery.  Within a friendly business, conversations usually ensue ...covering basic information like where they are from and how they happened by this small town. 

All this information was not shared with me by Mom, though the baker, her Uncle Paul, likely got a very interesting and more complete story ...inclusive of the fact, that the traveler was broke. 

I am going to tell the story, from this point on, not as I would of a distant relative, but as Mom told it ...of her Uncle Paul.

Uncle Paul gave him some money to help the traveler out, and to show his gratitude the traveler gave the baker a secret recipe for doughnuts.

Every morning, from that day forward, Uncle Paul would leave home with the secret ingredient mix and take it to the bakery. And everyone always said they had never tasted a better doughnut.

Dad and Mom still live in that little community of 3,500 people ...that had begun as a mining town, mining a high grade of iron ore.  And my parents still contend that no doughnut has ever come close to what was made in Uncle Paul's bakery.