The Fried Dough Ho

I had heard about the gargantuan size of the Hopkins Street Bakery doughnuts for some time. An evening meeting in Berkeley inspired me to BART over a few hours early for the mile-and-a-half jaunt from the station. It was a beautiful day with early spring flowers in bloom along the Arts-and-Crafts suburbia I walked through, proud of myself for getting in a *little* exercise (secretly justifying what I was about to do to my body and knowing damn well that the walk was not going to counter the doughy goodness I was anticipating).

As I came from a back entrance, walking by Monterey Foods, there was a distinct aroma of maple in the air. It was a warm, inviting, baker’s maple that briefly made me disband my desire for a jelly doughnut. I turned the corner and saw the purple door and my heart skipped a beat. I was slightly disappointed when I entered — because I had brought a book and was hoping to settle in and comfortably enjoy my treat — only to learn this was a very small store-front bakery with no tables or chairs. Not a full doughnut shop, the glass cases were full of cinnamon morning buns that looked intensely inviting, classic French pastries, racks of bread loaves, and meringues. But sitting on top of the counter, was a giant cookie sheet topped with jam-oozing, white striped monstrous jelly doughnuts.

I grabbed my treat and a carton of milk and wandered outside. Even the adjoining Pizza Parlor’s wooden benches were full, so I settled comfortably enough on the curb under a flowering tree with a light breeze on the back of my neck. More than 5″ across, this doughnut also has height and girth, puffy and inviting, the first bite provided the much-desired, classic jelly doughnut flavor; granulated sugar coating my fingertips and raspberry jam dripping off the corner of my chin, I was in true doughnut heaven. There was a lot of cake to the doughnut, yes. It took several bites to get to the full river of redness, but it is not a journey one would complain about. My only complaint — and this is entirely my fault — is that I couldn’t get to the bakery until well after 4:00 in the afternoon, so I know I was experiencing a level of minor staleness which could easily be rectified with an earlier visit. Now I have to try and get to Berkeley in the morning, this is definitely worthy of a second try; maybe warm from the oven next time!

1584 Hopkins St
(between California St & Mcgee Ave)
Berkeley, CA 94707
Neighborhood: North Berkeley
(510) 526-8188

In the French language, Trompe-l’œil means to fool the eye. Personally, I am big fan of Trompe-l’œil as an art form. I have practiced it myself — painting a living room ceiling blue with fluffy clouds giving the appearance of a lovely Spring day with the naked sky above me. I learned it as a decorating motif, making the eye see more space than really exists. There are very famous renditions of Trompe-l’œil in the art world, including the modern Carlo Marchiori and his muralist haven, Ca’Toga in Calistoga.

And there is a slight sense of irony that I experienced a little Trompe-l’œil moment at San Francisco’s Coffee Bar. Located in an area in SoMa (South of Market, for those you unfamiliar with our neighborhoods), I had just finished a painting lesson when I settled in at the upstairs bar which looks down upon the workers. I am a metalsmith by training and I had been taking painting lessons from Chris Leib to expand my repertoire.

I spied the dark brown, cinnamon-studded morsels in the pastry case and ordered one alongside a latté. I have to say, it was one damn-fine latté. The “doughnut,” however, was not a doughnut at all. My eye had been tricked by its size, demeanor, and gorgeousness. This hunk of dough had not been fried, but baked. It was dry and leaden and crumbly. It was probably vegan (although I have had some very good vegan pastries) in its attempt to be HEALTHY. Apparently the Coffee Bar gets their pastries (or at least this one) from Jasmine Rae Bakery, but here was an attempt to make something decidedly unhealthy less so. Sadly, it didn’t quite succeed in even being a good baked good. Very crumbly and the consistency of the classic Dolly Madison crumb cake but with so much cinnamon as to burn the mouth.

1890 Bryant St
(between 17th St & Mariposa St)
San Francisco, CA 94110
Neighborhood: Mission
(415) 551-8100

Here in San Francisco, in the vast display cases of the Starbucks empire, lie donuts. Bedecked in white frosting and glittering with sparkly, course, decorative sugar, these little 3″ offerings are beguilingly attractive. Offered in white and chocolate cake, their glistening covering is reminiscent of freshly fallen snow just before Christmas. They tease and they taunt; their white draping perfectly covering what anticipates to be a delectable and engaging treat.

Ah, if only it were to be… Well, it is entirely possible that they ARE, when fresh. Unfortunately, the two different times I have tried them, I have found these doughnuts to be dry and crumbly and the frosting to be too sweet; if you are going to sprinkle sugar all over the damn thing, you don’t need to make the frosting THAT sweet.

Now I know that different Starbucks in different regions source their baked goods from various bakeries. When I lived in Los Angeles, I had a serious addiction to a cinnamon twist that existed at a Starbucks near La Cienega Boulevard. Back then, I think many of the breads were also brought in from the famed La Brea Bakery. I even enjoy the Egg Salad Sandwiches from time to time. It is anyone’s best guess where these San Francisco Starbucks are getting their baked goods as they are wildly inconsistent. Sometimes I see Morning Bunz that look and taste amazing and other times, they are obviously from a different supplier.

Regardless, I think you should trust me on this accord; avoid their donuts.