In my mind, the whole thing seemed serendipitous. As I mentioned, SK’s was open, I would be driving almost right by it on my way home from USC, and, most importantly, I have a mouth that occasionally digs fried dough when it’s not busy macking on chocolate or ice cream.
It would be great – I’d eat a big fatty raised glazed donut in bed with some of the rooibos tea my mom gave me for my birthday, and then tweet about how I was eating donuts in bed. Because that’s what food bloggers do. Eat something and then tell the world about it.
The first kink in my great donut plan came when the chap working the shop told me that they didn’t have any raised glazed left. And that the glazed twists and sugar-dusted raised versions weren’t fresh. On a scale from 1 to 10, my disappointment level was at like a 27. Maybe a 27.5.
But I sucked it up like a big girl and asked said chap what the most popular ones are. He pointed out the crumb, the buttermilk and the frosted chocolate cake donut. I sighed in defeat – none sounded particularly worthy of sending my insulin levels into a tailspin. It was a very “wah wah” moment. Kind of like how I feel when an episode of “Glee” is over, and I know I have a whole week to get through before the next one.
After a few minutes of anxious contemplation, I finally went with the crumb and then told him to pick out another one for me so I wouldn’t have to make any more decisions. He selected the buttermilk and then threw in the chocolate one too because he didn’t “want [me] to be disappointed.” So sweet, that donut man. He only charged me $1.60 for the lot, but being the generous person I am (read: too anxious to get home to wait for my change), I gave him $2 and skedaddled.
Fifteen minutes later I snuggled up in my bed with my loot. It was an impressive spread. I snickered a bit at how gluttonous it seemed. A big plate of donuts at 3 in the morning? How Homer Simpson of me!
I tore into the buttermilk donut first. The freshness of the pliant dough was immediately apparent – as was the intense buttermilk flavor. I could practically feel the fat oozing into my pores as I nibbled my way through the fried pastry. This was a good thing. (Or at least I thought it was a good thing.) The light glaze covering the tender dough was sweet, but not cloyingly so, and I had no trouble polishing off the entire donut.
My other selections – the crumb and chocolate frosted cake donut – were also good and, most importantly, fresher than most of the donuts I’ve encountered in my lifetime of occasionally eating donuts, but were still outshone by the buttermilk variety. Tasting them only reaffirmed my favoritism for doughy, glazed donuts as opposed to cake-like ones. I cut off one more sliver of the crumb donut just to make absolute sure that I didn’t want to finish it, and then packed up the leftovers to give my roommate later.
It was around this time that my stomach started to hurt.
“Foiled again by my own devices!” I thought woefully, as I tweeted about the unfortunate consequence of my post-midnight indulgence.
I chugged down the rest of my tea, hoping it would temper some of the pain that was rapidly spreading through my overburdened belly, but alas, it was too late for natural remedies. The damage had been done.
“Just lay still.” I told myself, hugging my biggest pillow to my stomach. “Mom would tell you to just lay still.”
My last thought before falling asleep was, “I hope I don’t throw up.”
The next morning, I woke up feeling disoriented, as though I’d been overindulging in Cabernet rather than fried deliciousness. While the carboloading proved to be an excellent pre-workout meal for my subsequent eight mile run (I felt inspired by all my fellow runners at the Human Race), I now know why I eat chocolate instead of donuts. Chocolate, even in massive quantities, brings only love and joy to my stomach – never stomachaches.
Sk’s Donuts & Croissants
5850 W 3rd St
Los Angeles, CA 90036
Phone: (323) 935-2409