There are days when I think back on what I did and I realize that I am really fucking American. Yesterday was one of those days. I drove my Chevy too fast on the interstate and then parked in an industrial wasteland, and then I went to a minor league baseball game where a team from Iowa won and where I drank a $7 beer (Labatt’s, which is imported). I ate French fries for dinner. Also I saw some old white people play golf. And, of course, perhaps most American of all, I ate a donut that was named for an upcoming holiday that I bought at a Dunkin Donuts that shared a storefront with a gas station. George Washington would be proud (but also probably angry that I could vote).
It seems like there was some controversy in the comments yesterday about my feelings towards Dunkin, specifically if I hated Dunkin. Let me put those to rest with a simple statement of fact: I lived in Boston for most of my adult life. One does not live in Boston for that long without developing a deep love and dependence on Dunkin Donuts. I have been to the original Dunkin location! I almost left my apartment and went to Dunkin while terrorists were on the loose not a mile from my apartment, so strong is my need for Dunkin. I know that their egg and cheese on an English muffin is made of 65% plastic and 35% mouse feces and still I crave it! I love Dunkin, but I think we can all agree that, while convenient, their donuts are subpar. But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: put a donut in front of me and I will eat it! Reader: I will eat it!
I was meeting my brother and sister-in-law for the baseball game at 6:45, which was just enough time for me to go home after work, eat a whole bunch of french fries for dinner, and then drive to the closest Dunkin Donuts, a place I have been multiple times because although it is 20 miles away, I love Dunkin. Usually I would go through the drive-thru at this Dunkin, but I wanted to get the whole experience and also see exactly what donuts they had available (because I was looking for the squishy kind), so I went in. As stated earlier, this was a Dunkin that also shared space with a BP gas station. Facetaco might recognize this location as just down the road from the mall where his wife was yelled at. It truly is a beautiful part of town and a stunning piece of architecture in and of itself.
When I went into the store, I was the only person there besides the Dunkin employee, so, again, I felt very weird taking pictures. I had gone in thinking I would get a raised donut with chocolate icing, but they didn’t have one of those. The had a pretty good selection for it being a couple of hours before closing time, but not the donut I had planned on. So I made a split-second decision. I went for the big time. The #1 Dad donut. Literally that was what the label said. “Strawberry Iced.” “Chocolate Glazed” “#1 Dad.”
“I’d like a #1 Dad?” I said. Wouldn’t we all?
The Dunkin employee, who was very nice and non-judgemental of a lady who came in at 6:20pm and ordered a single, male-holiday-themed donut, asked me for $1.05, and I gave her exact change, and then headed out on my way. In the Dunkin parking lot, there were some people washing windshields for charity I think? So I didn’t want to lurk around there and eat it in my car. So I headed for the classiest place I knew of in town: the country club where I recently held an event.
It was a gorgeous day! And the country club looked lovely, even from the parking lot. I saw two old white people couples in pastel polo shirts driving golf carts and laughing. I parked so I could see the club building and the green. And I pulled out the donut. What you might not have been able to tell from the lead photo is that this donut was star shaped, because #1 Dads are stars. It also had some heft to it, so I knew I was in for a filling. I’m, probably not surpisingly, sort of particular about my fillings. I really don’t like filled donuts, but if I have to eat a filled donut I want either “red” or maybe custard. But I hadn’t asked what was in the #1 Dad donut. I was just going to have to find out.
It was custard. But guys. Guys. This was not a good donut. It took me two solid bites to get down into the filling, and the donut itself was dry and ickily flaky. That’s what I get for ordering a theme donut in the evening from a gas station, I know, but, bleh. I barely finished it. My father is deceased, but I am outraged that his role in my life would even be associated by name with this donut. You deserve better, Dad! All dads deserve better! Especially the #1 one.
And he will get better! We’ll all get better doughnuts. Because Tomorrow’s Doughnut: Sweetwater’s Donut Mill. They are literally the best doughnuts in the entire world, and while that might be hyperbole, I am not the only person who thinks that they’re very good. So hold on to your doughbuts and prepare yourself to read about myself flipping my shit about a doughnut.