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!
BUILDING A 1:1 BALUN
1 year ago