I do not use a Bat-Signal. I can be summoned by the Hot Now sign at any nearby Krispy Kreme. If you ever need me, don’t be afraid to use it.
they are doughnut shaped.” National Honor Society here I come. Frances
I have been faced with hundreds of promisingly crisp-edged cardboard boxes filled with them when working on set. But like chili dogs and supermodels, they are usually much better in theory than in real life.
That first lift of the box top reveals a glittering cartoon of highly decorated specimens. The sheen of chocolate frosting, suspended in its drip down the sides of its Boston Cream landing pad. The Mardi Gras of sprinkles on pepto-pink frosting, and the snakey twist of a double helix cruller, captured in translucent glaze. I’m using lots of adjectives here for a reason. Because opening a box of doughnuts is very much like opening a box of adjectives. They all shine up at you like jewelry, begging for descriptors.
But all too often, these words turn out to be exactly that: just words. A box of seductive adjectives, trying desperately for your attention.
The problem starts when you take a bite. First of all, instant cavity. There’s a reason that velveteen chocolate frosting is “suspended.” Its sugar content puts it closer in the family tree to rock candy than to any kind of sensible topping. Don’t misunderstand, every single one of my teeth is a sweet tooth. Some days, sugar is literally the love of my life. My issue is not with sugar, it is with those who choose to use this element for evil, rather than good. It should be perfect, not painful.
Once you get past the dental distress, you are often left with the textural betrayal of a ring of slightly chewable air-crusty in places, and unnecessarily dry. Disappointing. Like recent Joel Schumacher films, and all IKEA furniture.
BUT. The hero arrives.
The Buttermilk Strawberry Fonut reverses this equation. It is a doughnut that delivers more than it promises. It is the doughnut that all doughnuts wish they had the courage to be. What is a Fonut, you google? A Fonut is a doughnut that is baked, or steamed, instead of fried.
I can smell your outrage.
An UN-fried doughnut?! You must be mad! What can bypassing such a tried and true method of doughnut cookery possibly get you?!
It gets you an absolutely freshity fresh cakey doughnut, closer to the density of pound cake, heavy for its size, a bit tangy from buttermilk, and warmed with vanilla. It is much more like a piece of elegant cake, one that you wish to sit with for a minute, fork and knife in hand.
Not even close to something you would grab at a 7-11 to eat in functional bites with one hand on your morning commute steering wheel. Especially since it is delicately swaddled in a thick strawberry frosting that is notable for its whole bits of actual strawberry. Those bits bring legitimacy and credentials to this faux doughnut, should you still have your doubts about its non-fried-ness. (That’s where “Fonut” came from. Clever, eh?)
“This is a STRAWBERRY doughnut, and therefore has actual identifiable STRAWBERRIES in it,” they hint. This is not a “pink” doughnut.
“Pink” is not a flavor, nor an ingredient.
This is a doughnut to be relished. To be enjoyed. To be eaten like a personal piece of birthday cake, any old day of the year. It will make you wonder why you haven’t had an ice cream soda in years. Why you never read a book anymore. What you did with your old saddle shoes. It will force you to make space for lovely.
And if that all sounds waaaaaay too ladylike for you, and you wouldn’t be caught with a pale pink doughnut in your hand, AND you never even had saddle shoes to begin with because you’re a guy and what the hell are saddle shoes…just focus on that time I compared this doughnut to a superhero about half way through this review.
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