Located on West 14th Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenues lies one of my favorite old New York haunts. The Donut Pub. When you consider the long counter and the silent patrons, holding their cup of coffee and paper close, sugar crumbs nested in the corners of their doughy mouths, it does indeed recall one of those Irish pubs of Hells Kitchen lore. Here, donuts are serious business.
It’s not service with a smile. The oreo cookie covered vanilla filled iced is announced quite seriously. If you order a box, you have stepped up a level and are eyed with suspicion. “Are you going to be a regular or this this just a donut junkie pit stop?” their eyes seem to inquire of me. I tell them with my eyes, “Donut junkie. You got me.”
All these choices and my favorite is still, the apple fritter. Please leave one for me.