i love donut shops. donuts, however, are not my favorite, unless of course, they're homemade. and when i say "homemade" i mean made from a roll of cheap-y pillsbury biscuits patted flat, hole pushed through the middle with my thumb, deep fried in hot, hot crisco to a golden brown and then dredged in pure cane sugar. if there was a donut shop that sold THOSE donuts i'd be there in a new york minute. my gram taught me how to make them and they are seriously the most delicious things to come out of breakfast skillet, hands down.
more than donuts, though, i like donut shops. please don't think i'm referring to anything other than independent, mom and pop shops. those other things that call themselves donut shops are straight-up lying. those double-letter-titled imitation stores (yes, krispy kreme and dunkin' donuts, i'm looking at YOU) are nothing more than tarted up versions of a pure classic.
my grandpa used to drive to midtown on sunday mornings to california donuts on jefferson avenue and pick up the most amazing assortment i've ever seen. opened like a jewel case to reveal shimmering jellies and glittery glazes, that box never disappointed all of my eight year old senses. have you ever eaten a warm, raspberry jelly filled donut? don't like jelly? okay, how about a donut on which the sugary covering is still oozy from the fresh dip it's just taken in the glaze bath? yes, that's what i'm talking about.
california donut, sadly now in a state of disrepair and abandon.