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Friday, August 14, 2009

run, run,then maple bacon donut

Unholy, un-kosher goodness. Maybe the best thing I've ever eaten. Definitely worth running 11 miles for...and even then I probably ingested more calories than I ran off. It was one whopper of a donut.

Maybe I should start from the beginning of the story. Last Thursday, my brother Jonathan and I flew to Portland, Oregon to attend the wedding of our Director of Coffee, Amanda Byron on Cannon Beach, an hour & a half away on the Oregon Coast. We went for a jog before dinner, and happened by this crazy donut shop downtown. There was a large line outside and a party atmosphere. I looked into the small window to the kitchen, where I saw people rolling and cutting donuts by hand. There was a man handing off a large and strangely shaped donut and I asked him what kind it was. Get ready: "The Cock and Balls", he said with a straight face. "Okay", I said back. Sorry I asked. What if a small child had asked? Portland's a wild town.

ANYWAY, we decided to be good and not donut (donut becomes a verb when they are one's favorite food). However, the next day, we drove on to Cannon Beach, an adorable seaside town with Nantucket-style houses and saltwater taffy. We went to the best coffeehouse in town, called The Sleepy Monk. It's a really cute coffeehouse that looks like a monk's cell. They also roast their own beans. However, most importantly, they get a shipment in every Saturday and Sunday at 10 a.m. of Voodoo donuts! Well, clearly it was a sign from the gods that I was destined to try one.

Saturday, when I woke up early, I decided to go for my long run to train for the Half-Marathon this coming weekend. I would go about 11 miles, or 1:45 and then be free and clear to get a maple-bacon piece of heaven. I had a glorious run, all over the beach, up a mountain, through a primeval forest, back down on the beach, through town...and then for the last 30 minutes, I pretty much just circled the Sleepy Monk, making sure there were still enough supplies for me.

Then the donut. Fresh, soft dough, perfectly baked, real maple syrup frosting, and to top it off, perfectly crispy, salty bacon. My Orthodox-Jewish great grandfather may have been turning in his grave, but I was in heaven.

If I could eat a maple bacon donut every weekend, I would be willing to run 11 miles beforehand. A pact with the devil?

p.s. I shared the donut with my rotten brother. Grrr....

1 comment:

ME said...

Why does something as gross sounding as a maple bacon donut make me drull uncontrollably? Thanks god I cant swing by Oregon on my way home.