There are many ways to gauge longevity and success in your career. In the case of Krzysztof Brzezinksi — “Kris” to his loyal legions of customers — the number 15 million does the trick on both counts. “That’s how many doughnuts I make since I start,” said the Polish-born owner-operator of Coffee Way Donuts at the corner of Division and Concession streets.

Any way you look at it, literally or figuratively, that’s a pile of dough.

Kris is Kingston’s Duke of Doughnuts, the King of Crullers and Cakes, the Prince of Pastries, the Monarch of Muffins, the Pharaoh of Fritters. His establishment is the only place in town that still features fresh, made-on-site pastries. There isn’t a frozen lump of dough in the joint, unlike the large chain shops that have made defrosting the dough Step 1 in the baking process.

Mind you, creating such freshness is a chore for the proprietor. His work schedule would send a union steward screaming up the wall, and while Kris no longer works 14-hour shifts seven days a week the way he did in his early years as a doughnut maker in Mississauga, he still puts in at least 10 hours a day and occasionally more — such as the time he worked 23 hours straight filling a rush order of 278 dozen doughnuts for an event at Joyceville Institution.

Kris goes to work at 3 p.m. and leaves around 2 a.m., and on those days when supplies are coming, he saunters in around 11 a.m. He’s the worker bee of the baking business.

“My last vacation?” he said, repeating a question posed by a visitor inside a tiny cafe office that’s only somewhat roomier than a broom closet. “We visited my sister in Connecticut 27 years ago.

“I’m like the Energizer Bunny,” the likable, lean, balding businessman in dark pants, white shirt and matching white apron said. The bunny turns 60 this year.

Not only are his sweet treats fresh, decadent and delightful, they’re also huge. Everything is oversized: cinnamon twists as thick as lengths of tow rope, doughnuts the size of dinner plates, muffins that look to be on steroids, misshaped fritters like snowflakes, no two being alike. Boxes made to hold a dozen “normal-size” doughnuts can only accommodate nine of Kris’s colossal creations. “We have to put the other three in a bag,” he said with a hint of pride.

Kris and his patrons love the super-sized goodies, a custom that can be traced to advice given Kris decades ago by his first boss, a Toronto doughnut shop owner who also sponsored the new immigrant. Kris took the advice to heart. “He told me, ‘One more scoop of flour is not going to make any difference (to the bottom line).’”

Speaking of ingredients, each week Kris goes through approximately 30 bags of flour (45 pounds apiece) and eight bags of icing sugar (40 pounds apiece), not to mention two 15-pound bricks of lard. Then there’s the coffee, which is ground on the premises. On an average weekend, he bakes between 1,800 and 2,200 tasty treats a night, about 1,500 on weeknights. And sometimes even that’s not enough.

“When I left this morning, all seven shelves were stocked full,” Suzanne Groulx pointed out on a recent Sunday. “By 2 p.m. there were only about a half-dozen old-fashioned (doughnuts) left.” Groulx has worked at Coffee Way off and on the past five years, first at the counter before joining the owner as an apprentice baker 18 months ago.

“Kris is a fantastic teacher, very patient, and he treats me and all the staff like family, which is so rare in a boss,” Groulx said. For the owner, adding a second baker has given him something he’s never had since coming to Kingston in 1993: days off. Well, sort of. “He takes Friday and Saturday off, but he’ll usually pop in anyway,” Groulx said.

Kris was born in Ciechocinek, a small city in central Poland famous for its natural mineral spas. At age 25, he emigrated to Canada seeking a more stable life for wife Jadwigu and their one-month-old son, Lukasz, both of whom would join him four years later. The family grew in this country with the addition of twin daughters Polina and Katharina. All three Brzezinski children graduated from university and are today successful professionals, a fact not lost on the father. “Above everything else, I am most proud of that,” Kris said, beaming.

The Duke of Doughnuts has a hard time saying no to a good cause. He’s an ardent supporter of the Pete Petersen Basketball League, which got its start a few blocks away at St. Patrick’s School under the guidance of the school’s beloved late custodian for whom the league is named. Coffee Way donates doughnuts for the league’s annual fundraising golf tournament and sponsors weekly player-of-the-week awards that each and every player earns at some point during the season. A drink and a doughnut for 22 players every week throughout an 18-week schedule. “Kris is an incredible man,” league president Roland Billings lauded. “Before every season when we ask him if he wants to continue his support, he never hesitates. Even though his children never played, he realizes what the league’s all about, and he is very generous.” In turn, the league acknowledges his kindness with yearly plaques that adorn a wall in the doughnut shop.

Whenever St. John The Apostle Catholic Church on Patrick Street hosts a yard sale or some other event, pastries arrive courtesy of Coffee Way.

One morning last October, a very pregnant Deb Darling and husband Kevin Monk were rushing from their Sydenham home to Kingston General Hospital. They made it as far as the Coffee Way parking lot, where the mother gave birth in a summoned ambulance. When Kris learned of the newborn, named Myles, as a belated gift he whipped up batches of doughnuts with baby blue sprinkles on top and called them “Myles Doughnuts.” Earlier this month, he turned over the proceeds — $500 — to the couple, money that has since kick-started an education fund for the infant.

“Kris is such a lovely, thoughtful man,” said Deb, who was genuinely touched by the baker’s benevolence. “He did that totally on his own.”

Inge Hallworth is one of his oldest customers, in age and patronage. “Kris is a little bit special,” trumpeted the 93-year-old transplanted Dane who heads to Coffee Way for “my usual” — a yummy Dutchie — after a customary weekend night at the movies. “There’s nobody like Kris and there’s no other place like his in the whole city.”

Kris is asked if he plans to retire soon. He answers with an emphatic “never.”

Groulx begs to differ. She said that if the stars align and lottery numbers line up favourably, the Duke of Doughnuts might just hang up his apron — “might” being the operative word.

“Kris always says, ‘When we win Lotto Max and you buy my doughnut shop, I’ll come work for you?’”

Patrick Kennedy is a retired Whig-Standard reporter. He can be reached at pjckennedy35@gmail.com.