The Fried Dough Ho

My last doughnut stop in Austin was truly a special one. It was recommended to us by the lady selling us macarons at La Boite and is called Mrs. Johnson’s Bakery. What makes it special is a variety of things, mostly that fresh, warm doughnuts are available after 9:00 p.m. in the evening. And so we waited until after the sun had set for my epic journey towards Fried Dough Ho’dom.

Driving through the streets of Austin, there was a PBS radio station on the car radio playing tunes of the 1950s and I felt as though I were in the George Lucas movie, American Graffiti; this was as much about the journey as the destination. When we arrived, I could already smell the aroma of hot sugar in the air and I spied the sign which indicated that Mrs. Johnson’s had been around since 1948 and the building helped confirm that sense of nostalgia. In the front window was a long machine which rolled out the dough and cut the slab into its octagonal shapes. I watched the worker deftly pulling out the holes from the freshly-hewn rounds. All this joy and wonderment and I was not even inside yet.

What I was faced with surprised me; the full production of doughnut manufacturing going at full steam. It was so oddly gratifying and heartfelt. I was giddy and my enthusiasm was contagious. Enraptured at the scene, I watched closely as one worker organized the holes while another was laying out trays of freshly-cut rounds to be risen. And then another grabbed a giant bowl of dough and it dawned on me that my camera had the video record function. So I am pleased to share my first personal recording of doughnut preparation on Fried Dough Ho:

They knew I was a die-hard enthusiast. Ordering a small selection to take home and taste, the guy behind the counter put an extra doughnut in my box as well as one in my hand before I left. A freshly fried and glazed raised octagon of deliciousness, the warm doughnut in my hand was light and tender. Oh — and did I tell you it was WARM? Other than full-on restaurant offerings, I can’t think of when I have ever had a warm doughnut. I know that was the big selling point for Krispy Kreme for all those years, but in California, I never tried one fresh, only old and cold and mediocre.

What came home to try besides the warm glazed raised was a jelly-filled, chocolate cake, plain cake, and apple fritter. Someone else recommended the apple fritter and sadly, it just did not stand up to my benchmark fritter, Randy’s doughnuts in Los Angeles. Here the apples were indeed canned and fake and it was over spiced with too much cinnamon. The two cake doughnuts however, were exceptional. With a tight, moist crumb, the chocolate was slightly oily but not in a way that I found derogatory whatsoever. Instead, it made it richer and headier. The same dough used in the raised glazed was also that in the jelly doughnut and again, I was perfectly thrilled with this smaller-than-usual sized doughnut. Intensely light and fluffy, the raspberry filling was undoubtedly canned and mass-produced, but not overly sweet and perfectly acceptable.

I have had many mass-produced doughnuts, but these were a cut above. Fresh and warm aside, there was an inherent quality in the knowledge of the fact that these doughnuts were hand-made and not entirely machine-manufactured. And that hand-made quality is discernible, providing a level of excellence and satisfaction. There is much to be said for the vintage atmosphere of the building, the equipment, and the surroundings. Perhaps it was the music I was listening to or hearkening back to an era of simplified goodness, but Mrs Johnson’s certainly helps give the consumer that passionate level of contentment with its doughnuts.

While in a completely different league than the doughnut offerings at Gourdoughs, Ken’s Donuts lies in the heart of the University district of Austin and runs is your more traditional doughnut shop. When asking around for fried dough suggestions in Austin, many recommended Ken’s for a variety of reasons; this is your basic, good and honest doughnut shop. Open 24 hours, here at Ken’s you find the classic rounds of glazed and raised, cake and sprinkled. And they also have samosas.

Walking up to Ken’s, I was immediately thrilled when I spied a comforting figure as part of their signage — a Ganesha head painted as part of the masthead, with the divine elephant’s trunk joyously clutching a sprinkled doughnut. I took this as a good omen as the Hindu elephant god is known as the Remover of Obstacles and Bestower of Boons. Walking inside the shop, there is the immediate aroma of hot oil, warm sugar, and freshly made dough. The man behind the counter — Ken? — was amenable and pleasant and in my slightly befuddled state of what to try, immediately suggested the Sour Cream Cake as a consistent favorite.

But wait – there were also samosas. In San Francisco, I often bemoan the fact that Donut Shops should not mix their sweet offerings with seemingly disparate savory ones. But this was not a fast-food establishment, selling mediocre Chinese food alongside sweet doughnuts. Here, there was a single tray of precision samosas and it was one of the reasons that Ken’s was so well known. Still mostly full from the Gourdoughs experience the night before, I ordered light; a single samosas, a chocolate doughnut hole, and which ever doughnut was the most popular as recommended by the guy behind the counter, the Sour Cream Cake.

I must admit that the samosa shocked me in its simplicity and goodness. Filled with potatoes and peas, this was one of the best prepared samosas I had experienced. Thin, flaky dough was folded over the spicy filling giving layer upon layer of encasement to the center. I have had so many samosas that were made with a thicker, heavier dough which when fried bubbles and becomes chewy. Here, it is though they are use brik dough or a won-ton wrapper to create multiple thin layers to encase the spicy interior. My hostess, Jane, said they reminded her of the best Cornish pasties and I got that immediately — wholesome and rich without being greasy or chewy, these crisp and tender triangles were a steal at $1.00 each.

Very much to my surprise, the Sour Cream Cake doughnut was equally up the challenge. When it comes to these corner doughnut stores, I have become blasé in my expectations that a decent doughnut is the same almost everywhere and that a poorly-prepared doughnut is a travesty. While this was quite a decent doughnut, it was a bit more than that; very fresh and with a tight crumb, the richness of the sour cream balanced well the perfect amount of glaze which provided that correct amount of “tooth” to the piece. It is that discernible amount of crunch which the glazing has to provide countered against the moist and tender cake. Too much glaze and one is left with shards of sugar, falling off the doughnut. A dry cake and all one tastes is glaze. Here, it was all brought together in a flawless combination. All-in-all, an extremely satisfying fried dough experience.

One of the top destination restaurants in the city for the last six months has been Melissa Perillo’s Frances. I had the distinct pleasure to dine at the Fifth Floor under Perillo’s command and was looking forward to experiencing her new endeavor. The reservations at Frances are booked up weeks in advance and it is only the fact that a handful of bar seats are left open for first-come diners that enabled me to plan my birthday celebration.  Lisa and I arrived a few minutes before they opened and a line had already been established for a few of those choice non-reservation seats. We were lucky, getting a great seat at the bar with an optimal view down the hallway and into the kitchen where we could watch the action of waitstaff, Chef Perillo, and her kitchen crew. Ironically, June 1st was also Fraces’ sixth month anniversary so I felt that much more special celebrating along with them.

Bobby was our server behind the bar and when I explained that we were not eating an entire meal service but had only come in as part of my Fried Dough Ho obsession, he smiled with a twinkle in his eye and whisked away the menus, “I know exactly what you are having then,” he chuckled. While we waited, we savored a small, round shot glass full of their daily Market Shot – a concoction of fresh fruit juices and a touch of alcohol. Pixie mandarin, Meyer lemon, blood orange, pommeau, and Pedro Ximenez sherry. Also while we were waiting, we were served a small bowl of sage-scented roasted almonds; hard to not eat a lot of but I knew we had a long, dining night ahead of us.

Before I knew it, we were presented with two offerings, the rather infamous Applewood Smoked Bacon Beignets served with maple crème fraîche studded with chives and Panisse Frites, crispy chickpea fritters served with Meyer lemon aïoli. It was hard to choose which one to bite into first, but since it was the beignets that brought us here, I succumbed to the golden globes of goodness. These were tender, light and with tiny bits of bacon speckled throughout. So often a beignet can have a chewy, hard exterior but here, it was silky and rich. The accompanying maple crème fraîche was especially decadent, worthy of licking off one’s fingers (as Lisa will attest).

The chickpea fritters were a revelation. I know what beignets are supposed to taste like. And I know what the classic hush puppy-like fritter tastes like. Making a fritter from chickpeas, on the other hand, is a bit of a mystery. Is it a matter of frying a hummus-like concoction? What is used to bind the chickpeas into the perfectly square logs? Dusted in a bit of cornmeal, the exterior was crunchy and firm but the interior was the surprise — absolutely creamy and smooth, almost molten; the way I have tasted fried goat cheese in the past.  Several minutes into savoring, that almost liquid-like interior never dissipated or hardened, the way a molten cheese would. The Meyer lemon aïoli is a natural complement to the rich flavors of the garbanzo, providing a bright counterbalance to the redolent fritter.

Lastly, a note on service. Everybody — and I mean everybody — was smiling. Big, bountiful, we-are-really-happy-to-be-here smiles. It was infectious. There is so much to be said for a restaurant when the general goodwill pervades the atmosphere. I was feeling a tad guilty about coming in for only a few courses, but Bobby was not only amenable, but helpful and understanding. Watching us enjoy the fried goodness, he knew we would be back for more and it is my hope to go back sooner. If the fried dough offerings were this exceptional, the rest of the menu will undoubtedly knock my socks off.

Most cities boast a handful of all-night establishments. Usually they are relegated to Dennys or diners of similar ilk. And then there are doughnut shops. In San Francisco, the number of places one can go and hang-out in the middle of the night is few and far between — much fewer than other cities like New York or Los Angeles — but thank goodness there are few 24-hour doughnut establishments.

Allstar Donuts on the Chestnut Avenue of the Marina district is such a store. I was walking home last night from a concert at the Palace of Fine Arts. Most of the restaurants were close to shutting down and even on a Thursday, there was quite a crowd outside most of the bars; 20-something hotties still looking for a late-night hook-up. Allstar is located on a corner and still bedecks a circa-1950s sign with neon that sometimes works but mostly does not. Even when all of the other surrounding businesses are closed and dark, a bright light shines out from the Allstar storefront. Late in the evening, the racks are full of every variety; glazed and raised, cake and sprinkled, holes and sugared.

It is an extensive variety and this late in the evening, it is an easy bet that a majority of the offerings are warm from the oven. I’ve eaten Allstar Donuts a number of times. They are perfectly adequate — nay, even slightly better than so for providing a wide variety and always being available. There are no gourmet doughnuts here; no organic, vegan, dragonfruit or kumquat flavors. The sign is circa 1950 and so is the feeling one gets on the classic black-and-white checkered floor. This is nostalgia at its best. My personal favorites tend toward the cakes at Allstar, chocolate with frosting and cinnamon crumb. They are dense and rich and all so uniform in their soldier-like presentation.

Inasmuch, I would like to introduce you to Michael. Taking my photographs at Allstar around 10:30 at night, Michael and his friend walked in and with much determination, I heard Michael call out, “one chocolate doughnut, please.” I turned to see an elegantly lanky gentleman pull his single doughnut out of the bag and chomp into right there. I asked if I could take his picture. There was something comforting about the immediacy of the pleasure Michael was experiencing in buying and consuming his doughnut with such fervor. Michael’s friend was saving his doughnut for later and this was about the shared joy of watching Michael and sharing a moment among friends over a doughnut.

Here’s to you, Michael. And here’s to all the Allstar Donuts that exist around the country, offering up their sweet bites of comfort at all hours of the day and night.