Crappy Donut Stores Accuse High-End Shops Of ‘Cultural Appropriation’

“The only real difference between a caramel sufganiyah and a jam-filled one is the color of the junk we pipe into it. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a colonialist, elitist pig.”

Jerusalem, December 9 – Longtime sellers of the deep-fried, decorated pastries known as sufganiyot are lamenting the encroachment of establishments that produce something other than cheap, cruddy-syrup-filled doughnuts, accusing those stores of cultural appropriation.

Vendors of the traditional Hanukkah treat have long purveyed it as a deep-fried yeast dough injected with a sugary excuse for strawberry jam, chocolate, or caramel syrup. In recent years, however, upscale and mid-market bakeries and coffee shops have offered an increasing selection of sufganiyot with fillings, toppings, or decorations that would not make a reasonably cultured laboratory rat wince. The more venerable, blue-collar establishments have countered with crappy versions of, for example, vanilla filling, but have not been able to reclaim market share from the stores that apparently give a damn how their sufganiyot taste. In expressing their frustration and resentment, the older sellers now charge that the more upscale shops are engaging in the exploitative practice of cultural appropriation.

Old-time bakeries at Jerusalem’s Mahane Yehudah market accused English Cake, Roladin, and several other bakery/coffee shop chains of claiming the sufganiyah as their own concoction, when in fact an authentic product must make any resemblance between strawberry jam and the actual filling of the doughnut a passing coincidence. “It is just like those Ashkenazi types to go all gaga about traditional ethnic cuisine and try to ‘improve’ it for their similarly exploitative friends,” complained a proprietor in Mahane Yehuda who gave his name only as Benny. “The only real difference between a caramel sufganiyah and a jam-filled one is the color of the junk we pipe into it. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a colonialist, elitist pig.”

Shir Ashirim, a spokeswoman for Roladin, denied anything untoward was taking place. “Listen, if we want to offer a halva-filled doughnut dipped in pistachio icing, decorated with a swirl of orange buttercream, dusted with chocolate shavings and garnished with a cinnamon stick, there’s nothing exploitative about that – well, except maybe to the customer,” she insisted, referring to the treat’s fifteen-shekel price (a standard cheap sufganiyah costs three to five shekels). “There’s nothing stopping our competitors from adapting to suit the changing market.”

Benny dismissed that notion. “Frankly, the idea that I and my colleagues here at Mahane Yehudah have to change anything at all is nothing short of racist,’ he spat.

At press time, old Jewish housewives around the world were registering their ire at various publications’ offerings of hoity-toity recipes for the potato pancakes known as latkes.