The Know on the Dough Below

ENTER A PLACE where they make rice krispy treats 55 gallons at a time, where they use ovens the size of small common rooms and mixing-bowls large enough for people to fit in. Why have you never seen this place, you ask? Because it's buried deep beneath the earth. Actually it's in the tunnels of Eliot house, but close enough.

Taking a break from writing another stellar paper at 3 o'clock in the morning, I descended into the tunnels to pathetically check my mail once again in hopes that someone loved me. Rebuked and moping my way back to my room, I stumbled upon an open door to the bakery.

Terry V. Castro, producer of baked goodness, invited me in. I was flattered to be one of the select few deemed worthy of entering the subterranean world of Harvard Dining Services. After showcasing all the equipment, Terry nurtured my ego back to health with fresh donuts.

Even as Castro fills the daily order for close to a thousand donuts, he still inspects each one to make sure it is up to par before hand-dipping it. Asked why he is so picky about which donuts are good enough, he responds, "When you are working for John Harvard, you have to toe the line...they don't want any mistakes." Well, I was more than happy to stand next to him and eat all the mistakes.

Baking pastries since he was 11, Castro's appetite for donuts was understandably not as great as mine.

Castro is on the scene before 2 a.m. and there until 11 a.m. Underground during the graveyard shift, he bakes everything from donuts, croissants and muffins to brownies, cakes and pies. On big baking days, 300 pounds of flour will pass through the gargantuan ovens. The bakery down under is the sole provider of goodies for all the houses, the Greenhouse Cafe, three other on-campus cafes and Harvard Catering.

In addition to the sub-Eliot bakery, Harvard's underground world also harbors a dry dock, changing rooms and a laundromat. The tunnels also connect five kitchens, spanning from Leverett to Kirkland. Electric trams are needed to transport carts of food from one dining hall to another. After all, Leverett and Kirkland are pretty far apart when you're carrying chicken curry in a hurry.

This past summer, Harvard spent nearly 7 million dollars renovating and improving this world below the surface. Replete with new equipment, the bakery now functions much more efficiently, Castro says.

The new donut-making machine, for instance, pumps out up to 100 dozen donuts/hour.

As much expertise as Castro had in donut-related issues, he could offer no information regrading the Dunkin' Donuts monopoly/conspiracy theory. Perhaps I should explain.

Where is Mr. Donut in the square? There is no Krispy Kreme along Mass Ave. Come on, think about it. What brand of donuts do they sell at Christy's? At Baskin Robbins? Catch my drift?

Talking to him, I began to realize that Castro had a similar donut monopoly on the Harvard community. Indeed, I have always suspected that the limited amount of donuts at breakfast are part of a conspiracy to indoctrinate us with the competitive edge/early bird syndrome. Where is the invisible hand to save us now, Marty Feldstein? I am sure that the Harvard police would be very interested in investigating a donut-related transgression.

My investigation fantasies stopped short, though, when Castro pointed out that he only makes as many donuts as the dining hall orders. Even if there is only a limited amount of donuts, I find solace in the fact that each one is selected and hind-dipped by the late-nite donut king, Terry Castro.