While I was staying in Nepal I became very well acquainted with these fantastic, greasy, and amazing bundles of goodness! I never could get anyone to agree on what they were actually called, but that didn't matter because I made up my own names for them.
Obviously, there were "fried rings", which are sweet, crispy, and super fantastic when they are fresh out of the grease filled wok. But the round ball received a slightly different name... "the doughnut hole of death". This just screams of backstory, so here we go.
While I was in Nepal I kept a schedule that was really different from what I am used to. I was up and moving at 5am, out the door before 6am, and walking about 4km. On the way I would pass a tiny local shop where all manner of tasty fried breakfast type things were made beside the road. This particular shop was a husband and wife, and neither of them spoke a word of English.... but food seems to have a way of bringing people together. I started fondly referring to him as my "fry guy" and I would stop by each morning. I'd point at things and hold up fingers, the wife would smile and pack it in some newspaper, then I'd hand her some amount of money and she would return change. Eventually we got this down to a set rhythm.
On the first morning that I decided to try out the funny little balls I fell in love. They aren't sweet exactly.. more lightly salty. The outside is crispy and they are very dense. Even with being crispy and dense they seemed to just melt away as I ate them. Two balls disappeared quickly, followed by the routine cup of sugar-filled Nepali tea. And that is when disaster struck! These tasty little breakfast treats pack a serious punch when it comes to stomach aching and cramping. lol I very quickly dubbed them "the doughnut holes of death"!
You would think that I had learned my lesson on that first morning, but something about those evil little treats kept me coming back every day. Even my kids had a strong love for them... but I think that was partly due to the name I had given them. lol Either way, we enjoyed and regretted our breakfast for two months before leaving Nepal for Malaysia. Sometimes when you are traveling you just find something that keeps you coming back again and again. "The doughtnut holes of death" were absolutely one of those things for me!