This morning, Jessica and I headed to a local doughnut place, District Doughnuts, to start off our day. I honestly don't know how I managed to eat such a decadent breakfast after eating so well and so much last night. But, I pulled it together in the name of food tourism! I keep telling myself that I'll eat roasted veggies for a few days to balance everything out. We'll see...
District is located on a bustling part of Magazine Street -- it is surrounded by trendy consignment clothing shops, local coffee roasters, and edgy salons. Today, the doughnut shop/espresso bar was bathed in morning light and smelled of sugar, fried dough, and coffee (someone please tell Yankee Candle to make a Doughnut Shop scented candle). When you walk up to the counter, they have all of that day's doughnuts lined up. The signs read, "Hello My Name Is S'MORES" or "Hello My Name Is CINNAMON SUGAR." I love it!
The brown butter pistachio doughnut caught my eye, but then I noticed the Vietnamese iced coffee doughnut sign (it appeared to be sold out). I asked the woman at the front counter if they had any more and she said, "You're just in time! We have a new batch ready." Excitement rippled through me. Yum! I thought to myself, "What could possibly be in this kind of doughnut?" I honestly was not prepared for it. It was so rich, so decadent, so je ne sais quoi. Just too much goodness in too small a package. The cream filling was spilling out the side. The doughnut itself was glazed with a coffee icing; bits of espresso grinds were visible in it. I picked up the doughnut in my hands -- it was heavy. "Oh man. I need to mentally prepare myself for this," I thought. I took the first bite. The luxurious taste of sweet cream hit my taste buds first, followed by the bite of acidic coffee and the subtlest hint of fried dough. Oooooooo! I think I had died and gone to heaven. Oh wait, I think those were just the side effects of the massive food coma I was slipping into (and have not yet recovered from).
District is located on a bustling part of Magazine Street -- it is surrounded by trendy consignment clothing shops, local coffee roasters, and edgy salons. Today, the doughnut shop/espresso bar was bathed in morning light and smelled of sugar, fried dough, and coffee (someone please tell Yankee Candle to make a Doughnut Shop scented candle). When you walk up to the counter, they have all of that day's doughnuts lined up. The signs read, "Hello My Name Is S'MORES" or "Hello My Name Is CINNAMON SUGAR." I love it!
The brown butter pistachio doughnut caught my eye, but then I noticed the Vietnamese iced coffee doughnut sign (it appeared to be sold out). I asked the woman at the front counter if they had any more and she said, "You're just in time! We have a new batch ready." Excitement rippled through me. Yum! I thought to myself, "What could possibly be in this kind of doughnut?" I honestly was not prepared for it. It was so rich, so decadent, so je ne sais quoi. Just too much goodness in too small a package. The cream filling was spilling out the side. The doughnut itself was glazed with a coffee icing; bits of espresso grinds were visible in it. I picked up the doughnut in my hands -- it was heavy. "Oh man. I need to mentally prepare myself for this," I thought. I took the first bite. The luxurious taste of sweet cream hit my taste buds first, followed by the bite of acidic coffee and the subtlest hint of fried dough. Oooooooo! I think I had died and gone to heaven. Oh wait, I think those were just the side effects of the massive food coma I was slipping into (and have not yet recovered from).
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