I don’t know what deep-seated intuition prompted me to enter Dunkin Donuts that day, but enter I did, stepping daintily onto its luscious linoleum. Typically I despise foodstuffs beginning with ‘d,’ but today was to be an exception.
In the great Peremenacroix tradition, my dining experience began with powdery hors d’oeuvre and built its way into a crescendo of mucilaginous entrees until, with an almost sexual sigh, I beheld the piece de resistance, a magnificent oblong chunk of heaven, The Lightly Powdered Bavarian Crème. Throughout the meal half-nude slaves served me iced coffee from silver D-shaped trays.
This eatery specializes in a traditional Croisenment tribal dish called a donut, a powdered oblate spheroid featuring a center-hole (sold separately), a gelatinous filling, and/or a pellet-topping the French playfully term sprincoles), but its other features include le Daniche Frais du Bois, le Chocolatte Latte, and the adorable Calorie en Stique Stick.
It may have been the loving gaze of the twinkling yellow streetlamps, or the glints off the golden incisors of the pimp on the corner, but I think that maybe, just maybe, the fuchsia D flashed me a wink. Right back at you, amour.
The Bottom Line: Scrumptious delicacies serving scrumptious delicacies.
Dunkin Donuts, in a dilapidated part of town near you.
Hours: Always! All meals. Oh, heaven.
Price: entrees $2.99 – 5.99, paper tote-bag included
Best Bets: Boston Crème, Calorie en Stique Stick, and the short, dark-haired tease
4 out of 4 cardinals
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