This was the American import I was most looking forward to. Sure, we Limeys can do donuts, although we do refer to them as 'doughnuts' in practically an anti-abbreviation protest and there's something quintessentially British about the way we create them. We cover them in granulated sugar that sticks to our fingers and our faces, and we fill them with jam, that most English of preserve. Or we squeeze them full of a variety of other fruit fillings, or just to really hammer those stereotypes home, custard.
Don't get me wrong. Those are all great, and I've been known to outdo my own Britishness by enjoying all of the above with a large cup of tea. But if there's one thing that fascinates me about that country across the pond, it's their uncanny ability with all things sweet. Waffles, pancakes, the joy that is maple syrup (I spend almost a fiver on the genuine article over here... how is this fair?), cupcakes, muffins, brownies, you Yanks are experts. And in the art of the humble donut (doughnut, or as we Brits would probably ultimately prefer to say, a small nut-ball of fluffy sweet dough), you're veritable legends.
And in most supermarkets ours come in bags. Krispy Kreme's come in large boxes, like pizza. Fantabulous. When this here Krispy Kreme opened on Mosley Street, I was pleased as punch. The only one I'd ever spotted before was a bizarre standalone spot right bang smack in the middle of Asda's car park near the Trafford Centre. Somehow it never seemed quite right, it was far too inconvenient and somehow I was never in the mood for donuts after a stressful grocery shop. This one is in the perfect location, just behind Piccadilly Gardens. Close to offices for that mid-afternoon slump, Manchester's shopping Mecca for that much-needed sugar rush, restaurants for an 'on second thoughts' desert. And boy, did Krispy Kreme know what they were doing in their recruitment process. We met the smiliest of friendliest baristas, a woman who could sell ice to Eskimos. She somehow talked myself and my mother into buying twelve donuts. What the frick would we do with them? Yes, they might have only been 80p more expensive than six, but goodness, that's enough to send a diabetic into a fear-induced coma. Needless to say, Super Saleswoman had an answer for everything. They freeze well. They taste great the next day. Give some to your friends. Share them around your band.
As we left, my mum muttered to me, 'If I was starting a business, any business, I'd employ her in a heartbeat.' She was indeed just perfect. I hope she's still there, I'd love to have got her name. She's probably been promoted eleventy-twelve times over now and could be CEO for all I know. But the trick with Krispy Kremes is the variety. Not just any bagadonuts, oh no. These could be cakes in their own right, with blueberry fillings, toppings of chocolate shavings, apple and cinnamon flavourings, oh my, it's just too tempting. You will, however, find yourself constantly returning to the traditional and simple glazed ring option or the Crullers, as these are by far the most tasty. Sometimes, less is more.
America, you gave us great sitcoms, you pretty much dominate my DVD box sets, your ice cream is designed for people who reeeeally love ice cream and from what I can tell all your junk food is actually worth piling on the pounds for. And now you bring us Krispy Kreme. Anything negative is forgiven, as you have provided us with the most delightful of donuts. Just marry us already like Tony Blair always wanted. read more