Archive for October 2012
I’ve never been much of a doughnut girl. Sure, I’ll indulge in an occasional airy Krispy Kreme or a coconut-frosted from the 24-hour Donut Pub when I lived in Chelsea (as featured in Louis CK), but they generally don’t seem worth the calories. Not my go-to vice. However, Dan (and his dad) love a good donut, so I’m wont to buy them to be a good wife.
While working at KLCC, I once came home with a nasty $5 bucket from Voodoo Donuts. That’s how they clear out the inventory at the end of each shift. It was chock full of Capt’n Crunch, Double-Bubble Gum and rainbow sprinkle-clad donuts, way too syrupy-sweet for my palate. Dan gifted most of them to the OSU economics student lounge, where they were appreciated. The Voodoo thing is more about shock-value than flavor. We did enjoy their Neapolitan (chocolate cake with vanilla frosting, tangy strawberry sugar and marshmellows in whole) and the huge Memphis Mafia (glazed banana fritter topped with peanut butter, nuts and chocolate). Voodoo can not be judged by its mediocre glazed donut. And just say no to Voodoo’s gimmicky Bacon Maple Ale, brewed by Rogue. It’s expensive and supposedly nasty.
So far, Maine donuts are more my style, with old-fashioned, uncomplicated flavors. I hit up landmark Tony’s Donuts on the drive back from the Portland airport last week. Tony’s kept my father-in-law warm and happy when his Visicu work took him to Maine Med. The sought-after glazed molasses is my order at Tony’s.
Now, it’s rare that I’ll have two donuts in one week. This is not a habit I’m looking to acquire. But Dan came home from a downtown eye appointment today with two donuts from Frosty’s, whose reputation seems to exceed Tony’s, at least here in Brunswick. The blueberry one tasted artificial, but the glazed buttermilk one, yes buttermilk!, was a revelation. So light and creamy and not at all cloying. Almost like the famous Mrs. Yoder’s sourdough ones at the Richmond Farmer’s Market. These buttermilk donuts won’t help in the ongoing quest to lose the baby weight (sure, blame it on the baby even though you had those pounds to lose before he was even conceived). I was already worried about the freshman fifteen with the stellar dining hall food, which we do partake of here.
Note to self: don’t put the wild-harvested Maine steamer clams in the fridge with the bag sealed. Live shellfish need to breathe. Most of the shells didn’t clench up when tapped, proving my poor mollusks were dead. Their long, fore-skinned necks oozed out of their thin shells, like mini geoducks. They smelled a tad fishy. I meant to put them in a bowl overnight so they could breathe. ‘Tis a pity these guys had to die in vain without someone first savoring their sweet flesh. I love to drink their sweet, briny hot broth, as my Nonny did. So tonight was a vegetarian meal of soothing mujadara, a comforting balm to all the cool rain we’ve had here. Plus, I don’t lack for Maine seafood. I had a regrettable lobster B.L.T. in Rockland Saturday (and yes, I fasted the previous Wednesday). And memorable whiting (in Baltimore we called it Lake Trout) fish and chips to raise the profile of underutilized (unlike their lobster bretheren) Gulf of Maine fish.