Donut King II
Sunday, August 1st, 2010There is no one I know who doesn’t get a little thrill about roadside architecture (also known as roadside attractions). You know – those buildings of historical eateries, giant structures that look like something, or some odd structure so out of the ordinary to make one stop and take a second look. It seems giant doughnuts on top of buildings were a big thing to construct in the 1940s and because there are a few still in existence within the Ho’s grasp, logic dictates that a visit must be in order.
Perhaps it is the sense of nostalgia at seeing such a building. Driving down the crowded urban street, the pale arch beckons and brings with it the promise of sweet goodness. A memory. A sense of home.
How desperately sad to have those memories and hopes dashed by a travesty which should never have occurred. Not able to taste their entire œuvre, I used my benchmark taste test, the apple fritter. I know from a single bite that if an apple fritter is good, than every other doughnut being prepared and sold will be good.
With great excitement my friend approached the building; drive-up, no less! Pulling up to the window, I stated my request and the white paper bag was handed back. Anticipating – nay! hoping – greatness, I pulled the fritter and placed it on the dashboard for the photograph. It almost flopped over in limp abandon. I held in my hand the most horrific example of a fritter ever experienced. Oily and thin, this 7″ yellow patty of despair lacked the grace and dark unctuous crunch seen in truly great fritters. Mangy and squalid, I regret the single bite I took for I knew, ripping a small morsel for the review, that I was about to regret what I was putting in my mouth.
I am truly astonished at how BAD a commercial doughnut could be. An apple fritter should depict miniature peaks and valleys of dark brown, carefully glazed, apple-studded dough. It should produce a palpable crunch when your teeth penetrate the hardened sugar. In Donut King’s fritter, there was so much oily texture, a toothless gnome would not have bothered using this pathetic patty for pig food.
15032 South Western Ave
Gardena, CA 90249
(310) 515-1319
