Kenneth “Cat Daddy” Pogson and Tres Shannon have been friends for awhile. They always wanted to start a business together. Something that would fit into an extraordinary Portland business climate. Something fun, different, and one for the ages. After much searching under rocks, tequilas, and women’s blouses, they found what they were looking for… doughnuts!!
Cat Daddy with his stunningly brilliant business sense, and Tres with his seemingly endless supply of connections, set forth to conquer Old Town, Portland, and the world!! After a meeting with some Armenians and drumming masters, they were ready to set up shop in the “crotch” of Portland — Old Town.
There was only one problem, neither Cat Daddy nor Tres had ever made doughnuts before! They set out for the sunny Los Angeles suburb of Pico Rivera, California, where they met up with some doughnut masters, and learned about doughnuts from the ground up. These old, grizzled doughnut veterans knew what they were doing and were barely willing to give up their trade secrets at first.
Learning when to throw the flour, proper handling of a rolling pin, the intricacies of an old fashion, the “flip,” and countless other tricks of the trade were now in the hands, minds, and notebooks of Cat Daddy and Tres.
They returned to Portland regaling the locals with tales of Brad Pitt eating one of their early maple bars, a Chick Hearn memorial documented on Japanese Television, featuring Voodoo Doughnuts, and the wild, wild, times of California — artists, actors, washed up sports stars, old people, disillusioned tourists, and musicians. Ah California… Portland soon learned of these tricks and Voodoo Doughnut became the best tasting doughnuts in the world, chico!!
After flying in some “Voodoo Oil” from down south, acquiring the nuts and bolts of their shop, the boys started tinkering around with their methods that soon became known locally, nationally, and worldwide. People have talked about Voodoo Doughnut in Tibet, on Easter Island, Japan has some stylish folks sporting the latest Voodoo underpants, and friends have shared a buttermilk bar in Tanzania. I’m sure some corners of the globe have yet to be penetrated.