The Fried Dough Ho

Bob’s Donut and Pastry Shop is one of those establishments that is a stalwart landmark in San Francisco. It the place that my darling Lisa acquired my giant Birthday Doughnut. Not only do that have giant doughnuts as novelties, Bob’s provides the best quality, hand-made, classically-prepared doughnuts in the city. These are not gourmet doughnuts with unusual flavors like Voodoo or Gourdoughs. You won’t find anything with bacon or childrens cereal as a topping.

The interior is incredibly old fashioned; just a plain counter with a handful of two-seater chairs lining the wall. There is an old sign on the back wall worth looking at which reads “Cheaper by the Dozen – Plain, Powered, Maple, Glazed, Raised, Crullers, Crunch, Brownies. Take Home a Dozen. 2 for 15¢” I would have thought earlier, but they have been in existence since the 1960s. And the bulk of their business is not the morning crowd, but the late-night club-hoppers.

This is a stalwart favorite for a reason. The quality of their doughnuts is exceptional. Slightly misshapen indicates they are hand formed. The cake offerings are dense and rich with a moist crumb. The crullers are light and eggy and ethereally enticing. And then there is the apple fritter. Outside of Randy’s Doughnuts in Los Angeles, this is the best apple fritter I have experienced. It is a tad thicker than I prefer, but it has all the requisite dark crunchy bites that make a fritter fabulous.

Like Mrs Johnsons in Austin, if you go late at night, you can get these doughnuts fresh and warm. Many doughnut shops are preparing doughnuts throughout the evening for sale in the morning, but there are few establishments that enable you to acquire these warm, decadent morsels as they are being made. Kudos for Bob’s for staying open, for longevity, and for excellence.

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.

It was a very fortunate day, Sara and Cassandra were able to get me special access to the kitchen area and photograph the station where the chefs create the dough and fry them. There is a long, flour-covered work station and trays of the dough can be seen waiting to be worked and sliced before heading to the deep fryer. Unlike the Western-style commercial fast-food deep fryers which so many McDonalds workers are accustomed to, there are no inset baskets in which the dough is placed. These men of talent carefully hold a long-handled wire strainer and extra long chopsticks to grasp and hold the dough as it is cooking. They have to be careful to not allow the dough to sink to the bottom of the cavernous vat of scalding oil. It is hot, demanding work and while appears easy, requires deft and skill. What a fabulous day to just skim the surface of Chinese fried dough. According to Sara, I’ve got a long way to go in the exploration and I can’t wait to continue.

I grew up with a Father from the south and was well-indoctrinated with his version of hushpuppies. They came from a box mix that I am not even sure is still on the market these days. Dad would make them whenever we had pan-fried trout or catfish or other southern delicacies that he recalled from his youth in Albandy, Georgia. He would tell me the etymology (which I later learned was printed on the side of the box), about how these cornmeal-based fritters’ name came from hunters or fisherman who would throw them to their canine companions to quiet them; literally, “hush, Puppy!” A slightly savory batter, the best hushpuppies I’ve had are studded with scallions and made with buttermilk, fried to golden goodness and served with butter.

At San Francisco’s 1300 Fillmore, southern cuisine is elevated to a more elegant setting. I have dined often on their shrimp-and-grits, fried chicken, and braised short ribs. It was a quiet evening when I stopped in to the bar area for a quick bite and saw shrimp hushpuppies on the appetizer menu. Somewhat anticipating bits of chopped shrimp in the cornmeal batter, I was surprised to see that the dough completely encased a whole shrimp, with the tail protruding out. The coarse hushpuppy batter was acting more like a tempura batter than its own vessel, but I was pleasantly surprised by the tenderness and richness of the batter. Served with an ancho chile remoulade, I found the flavor rich and not too overpowering for the delicate taste of the shrimp. Not a traditional hushpuppy by any means, but still quite enjoyable!