The doughnut is a humble treat, loved by our finest, eaten at our worst. It has European incarnations and Asian variations, but America is where the doughnut fries best. Today, I finally cover the Doughnut plant, where this fritter is elevated to new heights—glazed and filled with fittingly flavoured companions.
I start with the crème brulee. A blessed creation—soft, gentle, yet bearing the signs of trial by torch. The glaze is 2-ply thin, leading way to perfectly resilient dough, and sweet vanilla cream filling. A subtle bitterness of the burn perfectly introduces the moist cream within, and makes you wonder if doughnuts ought to have holes at all.
Next I bit into the PB & B, or peanut butter and banana. Consuming this in doughnut form had me suffering some serious visual-taste sensory crossover. Having consumed a peanut butter and banana sandwich or two in my life, this method of delivery simultaneously registered as a new experience, but evoked also distinctive sandwich memories. The banana filling, appetizing still in spite of its baby-food colouring, was contrasted sporadically and welcomingly with the peanut bits. Wrapped lovingly again with the dough, my face took on an expression not unlike one Homer Simpson might produce.
I end my dinner (for indeed this was what it was), with a taste of tres leche and salted peanut . In a more familiar shape, the tres leches was as though it had come off a caramel drenched plate. Sweet as its regular serving, the tres leches has a moist, milky taste, added to the unmistakable richness of dulce de leche. The salted peanut was a nice cutting contrast, sweet with an added dimension of savoury–just the way to end this sugary onslaught.
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