Tuesday, January 03, 2006
In Praise of Krispy Kreme, Goddess of Doughnuts
When I first drove by the Krispy Kreme on Ponce de Leon, I couldn’t help but notice the “Hot Doughnuts Now” sign was on. It took every ounce of willpower to keep driving toward my damn appointment. Since I had to take a physical, I figured I probably shouldn’t load up on sugar and caffeine (doughnuts and coffee) _before_ the exam, so I practiced the art of delayed gratification and waited. Of course, by the time I skidded into the parking lot for “Hot Doughnuts Now” the sign had been turned off and I had to settle for “cold doughnuts jetz.” Anybody who knows jack about Krispy Kreme knows how sublime a fresh, glazed doughnut is; however, even a cold Krispy Kreme is better than a lot of hot other things, so I settled in with a chocolate- glazed, custard-filled and a cup of strong coffee.
The doughnuts haven’t changed since I lived a couple of blocks from Ponce in the early 90’s. Back then, Midtown was still a little scruffy – white guys in nondescript cars would follow women out walking in the neighborhood and offer them cash for sex. Men looking for men cruised the streets behind what was then First Baptist of Atlanta, near the corner of 5th and Peachtree Streets. And the Ponce Krispy Kreme was a dingy, little establishment filled with homeless folks, musicians, and former Mayor Bill Campbell’s infamous Red Dog Squad (a supposedly elite group of Atlanta Police that acted more like a well-armed militia – nobody messed with those guys). From my tiny backyard four blocks away, I could smell the Krispy Kremes cooking, which led to more than a couple of midnight runs for deep-fried bread.
How to describe a Krispy Kreme? A hot K.K. is sugary, glazed Zen. It’s a poem on your tongue. The fact that it is also a coronary waiting to happen matters not (and that is only an issue if one over-indulges, which one should not do. End of sermon. I will now pass the collection plate.).
Visiting a Krispy Kreme store is also great fun, since you get to see the doughnuts on their little assembly line, inching their way toward the inevitable glazed sugar waterfall through which all doughnuts _should_ pass. The Ponce store has been expanded, revamped, cleaned-up, and de-homeless-ified, as has much of Atlanta. The entire city, like Midtown, is well-scrubbed condo-land now, though a few odes to scruffiness remain: The Eagle, a leather bar; Clark Music; and a couple of package stores still line Ponce. And, praise the Goddess of small things, the doughnuts are still as tempting as ever.
The doughnuts haven’t changed since I lived a couple of blocks from Ponce in the early 90’s. Back then, Midtown was still a little scruffy – white guys in nondescript cars would follow women out walking in the neighborhood and offer them cash for sex. Men looking for men cruised the streets behind what was then First Baptist of Atlanta, near the corner of 5th and Peachtree Streets. And the Ponce Krispy Kreme was a dingy, little establishment filled with homeless folks, musicians, and former Mayor Bill Campbell’s infamous Red Dog Squad (a supposedly elite group of Atlanta Police that acted more like a well-armed militia – nobody messed with those guys). From my tiny backyard four blocks away, I could smell the Krispy Kremes cooking, which led to more than a couple of midnight runs for deep-fried bread.
How to describe a Krispy Kreme? A hot K.K. is sugary, glazed Zen. It’s a poem on your tongue. The fact that it is also a coronary waiting to happen matters not (and that is only an issue if one over-indulges, which one should not do. End of sermon. I will now pass the collection plate.).
Visiting a Krispy Kreme store is also great fun, since you get to see the doughnuts on their little assembly line, inching their way toward the inevitable glazed sugar waterfall through which all doughnuts _should_ pass. The Ponce store has been expanded, revamped, cleaned-up, and de-homeless-ified, as has much of Atlanta. The entire city, like Midtown, is well-scrubbed condo-land now, though a few odes to scruffiness remain: The Eagle, a leather bar; Clark Music; and a couple of package stores still line Ponce. And, praise the Goddess of small things, the doughnuts are still as tempting as ever.
