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| Gluten-free cake donuts with powdered sugar and cinnamon. |
For those of us born and raised on the East Coast- specifically, near Boston, Massachusetts- a certain coffee BF with a hole in the center is spelled donut. Not doughnut. Why so not-snobby casual, you might wonder? Why switch the ough to o when Boston's rep is more of a Paul Revere
and cobblestones conservative town than say, oh I don't know-- maybe, rainbow flag flying West Hollywood? Dunkin Donuts
is the culprit, I suspect- that ubiquitous New England coffee and doughnut chain from Quincy, MA, infamous for the tag line, Time to make the donuts! muttered by Fred the Baker in television ads for a good fifteen years.I have fond memories of the Double D, as we liked to call it. For two reasons. They made the best cup of dark roast coffee
east of the Mississippi. No fancy skim foam or steamed soy milk offered. Just coffee. Strong and rich. I took mine with cream and sugar. And a donut. Usually a blueberry cake donut, or an old fashioned cake donut scented with nutmeg. The second reason? My first rendezvous with a certain individual sixteen years ago was a meet at the Double D. Yep. Coffee and donuts to go. We parked at the beach and sipped our Joe and talked with our mouths full, our laps dusted with sugar and crumbs, the car radio crooning Crowded House
against the salty gusts of April wind.Romantic? Hell yeah. My heart was pounding. And it's a good thing I was snug in a bucket seat. Because my knees were quivering Jello. You see, romantic doesn't need to be fancy. Or expensive. Not if you're with the right person. The person who makes you feel golden and voluptuous and awake. Who raises your game just by sitting there. Smiling at you. Who listens with their whole body- not to mention, their killer keen eyes. The person who feels slightly dangerous because your soul is at last being seen. And there is nowhere to hide.
So, Steve Baby?
This recipe's for you.
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