It's probably a good thing I'm a slow riser. At least, good in terms of my eating a proper diet. You see, The Dancing Donut is located between Roseholme Cottage and my work. I can count on being able to stop by once a week, maybe twice if neither of my days off falls on Monday, when they are closed.
If I could find time to go there every morning, I probably would.
Their menu changes very slowly. I have been working my way through it, starting with items I knew I'd enjoy, like "Nutella the Hun," a donut filled with Nutella-based cream and rolled in cinnamon sugar, and "Fritta Astair," an excellent apple fritter.
Yesterday, I bought a couple of innocent-looking, regular-sized powdered-sugar donuts, figuring they were nothing special, just a good, dependable standard. They even call them the "Plain Jane."
I underestimated them. By a lot.
At one time -- and it wasn't that long ago -- there were still a few hole-in-wall* coffee & sinkers joints left around town. Most of them fried cake-type batter in deep hot fat, producing a slightly chewy-crunchy crust around a light and airy inside. Served up still hot after a quick roll in cinnamon sugar or powdered sugar, they were a genuine treat, one I haven't had in over twenty years -- and the ones Dancing Donut makes are exactly that kind, but even better. It's a taste treat from the past! Not the cheapest place to buy donuts but my, oh my -- and their cappuchino's good, too.
* In some cases, without even much of a wall -- there was one by the 24-hour laundromat in Carmel in what appeared to be a former Fotomat booth. It was worthwhile to time one's laundry to finish just as their first batch of the morning came off the cooling rack. Yum!
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago