People who know me, know of my fondness for donuts; there aren’t many days that I don’t have one. It began when I used to stop by for one before Hebrew school, at a since-gone place next to the venerable T-Bone Diner.
(Let me say right now, that I recently had my annual physical, and not only do I weigh the same as I did last year, but thanks to the good people at Pfizer, my cholesterol count is 135 (52/73)).
I usually have an Entenmann’s Rich Frosted at breakfast, but once-a-week at work, we get from the Donut Plant on the Lower East Side - a co-worker lives on the same block. These are donuts nonpareil. Nothing artificial, the flavors change with seasonal availability, and a blueberry is made with real blueberries. They don’t come cheap ($2.50 each), but are truly amazing. Frank Sinatra, who I would generally defer to in a matter such as this, was a big Entenmann's fan, but he didn’t live to see the Donut Plant. I can honestly say that I’ve never had a better donut, nor do I expect to.
That doesn’t mean though, there isn’t room for a more quotidian-type, and that’s where the Donut Pub on 14th Street comes in. These are more like ‘Dunkin Donuts’-type donuts, except they taste 5x better, the selection is greater, and the people are super-friendly. I always go for the chocolate frosted (no sprinkles). They also sell an awesome black-and-white cookie. It’s the kind of place that you fear one day you’ll find has become another Duane Reade. I think I’d be more bummed if Donut Pub went away, rather than Donut Plant. I don’t think the former is as easily reproducible.
For the “doughnut” versus “donut” debate, see here.