I don’t like doughnuts. I’ve never fully understood the allure of Krispy Kreme and as for runnin on Dunkin? Nope. Doughnuts are usually too sugary, too puffy, and they sit in my tummy like a big ball, which really needs no extra roundness these days, thanks.
But. But then…there’s the Doughnut Plant. Their doughnuts have actual tastes and textures, unlike DD doughnuts, which taste like deep-fried 7-up. If there’s a heaven, they’re serving Doughnut Plant doughnuts up there.
The Plant is a few blocks from where one of Liam’s best friends lives and when Grandma was here last week, we all rode downtown to that friend’s house to pick up Liam after a sleepover. We stopped for doughnuts afterwards to ease the trauma of leaving “the most fun sleepover ever” and the little-brother trauma of “why do I always have to gooooo with to pick him up?”
Caleb, ever the traditionalist, went for the double chocolate and although I forced him to share a bite of it with all of us, I understood his reluctance to part with even one velvety crumb. Grandma wasn’t going to have anything — just too many calories, she said, with smidge of self-righteousness in her voice. Liam got my favorite flavor, tres leches, and after one bite of that, darned if Grandma didn’t march right up to the counter and get one for her and one for me. Calories and ever-rounder tummies be damned: tres leches is a glazed doughnut, sort of, except under the first layer of glaze is a thin layer of a sort of carmel, and then there’s the densely fluffy doughnut itself. A little ring o’bliss, that’s what it is.
The Plant is something of an institution, so perhaps it’s no news to you that they’re serving manna on the LES. And if you didn’t know, well, you can thank me later. A dozen doughnuts would do nicely.