Donuts, Doughnuts, or “doe-no-ugg-huts” as I used to call them on my Friday morning jaunts to Winchell’s or Fosters with my pops in the late 80’s, how I love thee. As a youth, I would go for the rainbow sprinkle, a maple bar and a box (yes, box) of chocolate milk. Absolutely awesome combo on all fronts and exactly what an adolescent needed to start his day.
From DK’s in Santa Monica to Dough in Bedford Stuyvesant, these tasty treats have seen a renaissance in the last few years.
That renaissance may or may not have been led by my great friend in Brooklyn (late of Los Angeles), a platinum-palated gentleman with a weakness for the fried fritters. I imbibed in many a crumbly pleasure with this man as he enlightened me with his understanding of donut nuances from texture to flavor gradient to type of dough. He regaled me with mythological stories of donuts that quite literally melted upon first taste; we chased these treats both up Ventura Blvd. and down Figueroa Street.
And alas, we’ve both moved on – but I still enjoy a damn fine donut and I’ve come to the awkward realization that an
is actually my favorite of these delectable wonders. I often ask myself, is the apple fritter even a donut? Is it technically a pastry? Is it cake?
I’m not sure of the answer in fact, but I do know that I’ve only ever purchased one of these delicacies at a donut shop. And no other pastry/cake/donut can match the pseudo-crunch of the edges and the spongy cake of the center. It’s a texture thing, and the fresh tartness of the apple is a perfect counter to the frosting sweetness. So there it is, my favorite donut.
photos courtesy of myinnerfatty & somethingfortheroad