Title-Hungry Cops Belly Up to the Buttermilk Bar

They have come here well prepared and highly trained, having spent years in law enforcement wolfing down doughnuts by the dozens.

Maple-glazed in the squad car. Jelly-filled at the station house. Sugar-covered and powder-coated at their favorite coffee shop.

Scores of the world’s finest police officers, hailing from as far away as Australia and Ireland, are planning to loosen their gun belts today and dive into a pile of pastries at the World Cop Donut Eating Contest.

So many officers have been salivating at the idea of being dubbed Donut King that Ed Nowicki -- a former Chicago cop and head of this year’s contest -- is worried he hasn’t ordered enough supplies.

“Do you think 100 cops can go through 600 doughnuts in three minutes?” asked Nowicki, executive director of the International Law Enforcement Educators and Trainers Assn., which is serving up the contest as part of its annual convention in this northwest Chicago suburb.

“I think we might need more,” Nowicki said. “It’s amazing how much we cops can eat.”

Dr. Atkins would be appalled.

Ten dollars buys entry into the contest for any hungry law enforcement official. The winner will get a semiautomatic pistol, soft body armor, a $100 gift certificate to Dunkin’ Donuts and, most important, the coveted title of Donut King.

Proceeds will be split between scholarships for officers who need help paying for training classes and the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial in Washington, which honors those killed in the line of duty.

The contest began as a tongue-in-cheek event at the group’s conference last year, a chance for officers to have some good-natured fun at their own expense, Nowicki said. In the process -- helped by heavy sales of “World Cop” T-shirts -- more than $2,000 was raised.

“We wanted to show that we do have a sense of humor and do a good thing for our community,” Nowicki said. “Plus, cops do eat doughnuts. It’s one of the basic food groups.”

Only a few people signed up last year, Nowicki said, probably out of fear of looking foolish. He received phone calls from weight-conscious colleagues who shuddered at the thought of anyone -- particularly police officers -- propagating an unflattering stereotype.

Once the platters of goodies showed up, however, the grumbling stopped: Though just 25 officers took part, hundreds more looked on -- and nibbled on the leftovers. The winner, Officer Gary Sellers of Highland, Ill., devoured nine doughnuts in four minutes.

Word of the contest spread through the law enforcement community as photographs of sugar-covered cops were posted on the organization’s website.

This year, it appears even those concerned about carbs have succumbed to the call of the doughnut.

“Everyone needs a yummy,” said Los Angeles County Sheriff Lee Baca, who goes for an 8-mile run every morning. “When you’re stressed or feeling bad about yourself, you’re entitled to indulge.”

And indulge they will, because there won’t be any airy, fluffy doughnuts on the table. Contestants will be cramming down the cake variety -- dense, rich and gooey.

“We’re going with chocolate-frosted because the officers think the frosting will help them slide down even faster,” said Carrie Reckert, a spokeswoman for Dunkin’ Donuts, which donated the sweets.

For a while, Nowicki was fielding the occasional query from officers curious about the contest. His standard reply: Just come prepared to eat and have fun. Then organizers started getting a call each day, asking for training tips.

But as the contest drew near, callers jammed the phone lines with questions: Is the squish-and-push method more effective on doughnut eating? Or is that only for hot dogs? Should I use the two-handed, cram-everything-in-until-my-cheeks-puff-out-like-squirrels approach instead? Should I drink milk? Or will the carbonation of soda break down the doughnuts faster in my stomach, so I can eat more?

Nowicki’s suggestion?

“Bring antacid.”