How is it possible that a small piece of fried dough can make my day immensely better and that much more worth living? If it were socially acceptable, “donut” would be my middle name. I am that attached to these dunkers. I have countless boxes of Krispy Kremes to thank for getting me through many an all-nighter study session the day before midterms. It was always so tormentful buying a dozen warm, gooey-glazed donuts and having them sit next to me in the car, just waiting to be devoured back in the dorms.
I was bored and listless at work this morning, that is, until my thoughtul and generous boss walked in, carrying two dozen warm, only-minutes-ago fried to order donuts. Like bees to a honeypot, we jumped her and fought her to the ground. They were from Fractured Prune, a mid-Atlantic chain of small shops that fries and glazes donuts for the sugar-starved masses, on the spot! You pick your glazes and toppings, and within minutes, you’re out the door with a warm, sugary dozen (or more). They’re smaller than your average donut, about 3″ across, rather than 4″-5″, but what they lack in size, they make up for in bling. Toppings range from mini chocolate chips (these are sooo good because they melt from the warmth of the donut) to peanut butter to a blueberry glaze that is literally a throwback to my 1980’s metallic spandex leotards.
I liked all the flavors I tried, but after numerous taste tests, my top 3 still remain the French Toast (maple glaze with cinnamon sugar),