In Kairouan, doughnuts are still made the way they always have been: sitting cross-legged, the master doughnut maker tames dough and boiling oil with a gesture handed down rather than taught, never taking his eyes off the frying or the smile he keeps for his customers. Pulled hot from the oil, the golden rings are eaten on the spot.
Why has Kairouan kept a gesture other cities have abandoned?
The moment they come out of the oil, the golden rings wait for no one: they’re set down hot, still sizzling, ready to be shared on the spot.
In Kairouan, and nowhere else, the doughnut seller keeps a posture that time has erased everywhere it has passed: sitting cross-legged in front of his stall, he works the old way, a gesture handed down rather than learned from a book.
This detail, simple as it may seem, says a lot about what gives Kairouan its charm: a city that never rushed to look like any other. Here, you still find that small everyday theatre which elsewhere has given way to faster, more standardised ways of doing things, and which here holds its ground, almost out of loyalty.
How do you recognise the hand of a true master doughnut maker?
You spot him first by his calm. Between the dough that must be tamed and the spit of boiling oil, his hand never trembles. He repeats the same movements, again and again, with an almost silent regularity, as if frying held no more secrets for him.
But this cool head doesn’t cut him off from others. Between two turns of the dough, he greets his customers, a word, a smile, never taking his eyes off the frying doughnuts. That divided attention, between the hand at work and the eyes that welcome, is perhaps, deep down, the true mark of a master.
And once out of the oil, what becomes of the golden ring?
The moment they come out of the oil, the golden rings wait for no one: they’re set down hot, still sizzling, ready to be shared on the spot. It’s this exact moment, the doughnuts fresh from the fryer, that the site webdo chose to capture in its report on Kairouan’s unrivalled doughnuts.
We owe this last detail to webdo: the trace of a simple gesture, repeated from generation to generation, that closes the preparation without ever freezing it in place. The golden ring, barely out of the oil bath, stays true to itself: still hot, already destined to be shared.
If you ever pass this stall in Kairouan, give yourself a minute to simply watch: the dough being tamed, the smile slipped in between two batches of frying, the golden ring set down hot without delay. And above all, don't keep it to yourself: in Kairouan as elsewhere, a doughnut is meant to be shared, still warm, fresh from the oil bath.
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