You might've guessed this about me, but I haven't eaten a doughnut in years. They're just not my thing.
Last week, though, the Spouse needed to see conference rooms in a couple downtown hotels (meetings coming up - local meetings, for once), so he hauled us across the river to the PRP. That's People's Republic of Portland, for you non-locals.
We ate street-cart food, which was excellent. I had some sort of Cuban chicken in guava sauce with brown rice and black beans. J ate a burrito about the size of his arm, and the Spouse ate a gyro. Then we stumbled across The Donut Shop Which Shall Not Be Named.
"I have to go in," said the Spouse, as if drawn by a sinister force.
I waited in the car, my eyes alert for parking-patrol officers, ready to spring out of the passenger seat and act like I just pulled in and intended to pay the whole time.
The Spouse and J emerged. J was devouring an old-fashioned donut with maple glaze. The Spouse was carrying a little white bag.
The donut inside looked like a train wreck. It was covered in Captain Crunch with Crunch Berries, as if some hyperglycemic toddler had been allowed into the bakery.
Back home, I cut a chunk off and took a bite. Immediately I had one of those experiences where the taste in your mouth short-circuits your brain because it tastes so much more intense and sweet than anything occurring in nature. I have to admit it was fun.
I also had to run for milk, because the cereal needed it.
Donuts still aren't my thing, but that was a tasty donut, and I only needed four bites.
I think this post was mostly about the photo.
