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Yesterday, being a Friday thus No School, I decided to go to Savannah, because they have the sort of places in which I like to shop. Especially a Goodwill that the Well-Off Classy People in the area like to donate their clothes, which means I can find the likes of Talbot’s cardigans and Ralph Lauren shirts that are practically brand new and occasionally still have the labels attached, for the low, low price of $3 a piece.  Not only does it appeal to my inner Princess, but also my inner Scrooge. I found a gorgeous powder-pink cashmere sweater and an embroidered camisole that matches. Perfect for church and cooler Fall weather. AND in one of my favorite colors! So ladylike! And in perfect condition not even any pills! That made me so happy I decided to stop at the Krispy Kreme Doughnut Shop on the way home for a cup of hot coffee.

I had no intention of getting a doughnut because the Hot Doughnut sign was not on. Now, for those of you unfortunate enough to not know anything about Krispy Kreme and not have one within driving distance, let me explain. It is a doughnut shop. They have this sign outside the shop that they turn on when doughnuts are coming out of the fryer, because they make them in-house and hot ones are kind of a thing. Like REALLY a thing. However, they only turn it on for their signature glazed doughnuts, and those aren’t really my favorite even though they are pretty good when fresh and hot with the glaze sort of dripping off and being all messy. My favorite doughnuts are the Old Fashioned ones, also called Cake doughnuts. They don’t turn the sign on for those because they aren’t that popular so they only make a few at a time.

So, I pulled in the parking lot, thinking of a delicious cup of excellent (because like any decent doughnut shop they have good coffee) coffee. The way the shop is set up (surely they hired a marketing psychologist), you have to walk past the glass fronted doughnut fryer and see all the tasty pastries rolling along the conveyor belt from the fryer to the glaze waterfall, around the bend to the people boxing them up. As I walked past I saw that there were a couple dozen cake dough nuts coming up out of the fryer, not yet through the glaze waterfall.

My pulse quickened. My eye dilated and palms got a little sweaty.  NO, I thought. COFFEE ONLY. Who was I kidding? How often did I see cake doughnuts hot out of the fryer? NEVER. THIS WAS THE VERY FIRST TIME. So, when the young woman asked if she could help me, I pointed to the doughnuts, hands shaking and voice a little quavery, and requested on of them. “Of course!” she replied, “Can I get you anything else?”

After paying for the pastry and coffee, and fixing the coffee up the way I like it (1 sugar, about 30 creams), I sat in my truck and held the doughnut, feeling the warmth and observing the equatorial crispy edged goodness.  I nibbled a bit and my eyes crossed. No, I can’t drive until the doughnut is finished because I would be too distracted and the traffic on Abercorn Street is intense. Even though I am pretty sure the insurance company would accept “I had a hot Krispy Kreme” as a reasonable excuse, as would the Savannah Police , I didn’t want my attention to be diverted from the miracle of having been able to acquire a hot cake doughnut.

Eating it slowly, so as to focus on the nutmeggy flavor and soft, yet sturdy, texture, was difficult. My inner 4 year old wanted to shove the entire thing in my mouth and blow crumbs all over the inside of the truck. But my outer adult prevailed and the doughnut was savored (relatively) slowly, and with sips of rich coffee.

I have to confess to an assortment of…hm…unladylike noises and a degree of eyerolling. Also to a certain tingly feeling that I’m still occasionally feeling, and have to stop and allow it to pass before I can continue on whatever mundane task Saturday holds. It was quite an experience, on par with the first time I had foie gras or The Cedar’s fried chicken. It’s not something I want to have every day…pfft who am I kidding, YES I DO, but having one as a surprise extra special treat after finding a practidally new cashmere sweater for $3 made for a pretty special day.


About rootietoot

I do what I can.
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