I happen to find myself in Concord quite frequently it seems, and when I do, boy am I a hungry lil’ boy! And when I’m hungry, I don’t settle for anything but the best, so I figured my best bet would be to go to The Best Little Donut House In Town, according to the Concord map:


With such glowing reviews as “Who cares how the donuts taste” and “glaze has a strange aftertaste”, little could restrain me from continuing forth into the Donut Realm.


As you can see, it quite literally looks like a little house! I was tempted to knock on the door prior to entering and give a little “Yoohoo! Anyone Home?!” in an effort to entice some local smiles, but I decided against it, as a man with face tattoos was outside also. So I went inside:



It looked pretty average inside. Some dads chilling and drinking coffee with a paper in hand, Asian women preparing sugary plump breadstuffs. They did have a giant stack of pink boxes:


This man likes to sit here and pretend he’s sitting inside Barbie’s Dream Donut House

You gotta have all those boxes prepped and ready to go for you never know when some hotshot exec is gonna walk in and demand a dozen thousand donuts, or when the Concord PD are gonna have a birthday bash for the chief. Luckily, neither of which were happening so there were plenty of donuts to go around, but it wasn’t a donut that caught my greedy lil’ eye:


This fucker was fat, I mean FAT. It’s one of those things that kind of make you grin when you tell the lady behind the counter that you want it. So I ordered that and a couple of Old Fashioned donuts as well, for some on-the-go sustenance later (chocolate and maple glazed of course).

wpid-img_20150216_101305.jpg The coffee of course was a typical donut affair, being bland and not very strong. That’s ok though, as the flavor of donut shop coffee has a certain romantic nostalgia. It reminds me of my childhood and how my father would bring home gigantic ass bear claws and try to give me diabetes. The “croissant” was not the fluffy flaky texture that is typically associated with croissants. It was more like someone took a tube of Pillsbury dough and flattened it out and deep-fried it after stuffing it with ham and cheese. I took some bites:


Velveeta cheese, with what seems like a whole package of deli ham folded in half and jammed inside. So burly, so janky, like a buff homeless man:


While engorging my digestive tract, I gazed at the walls and it seems they have dozens of pictures of vintage diners, several of which being dog shaped:



Upon finishing my meal, much like a bat after a long night of feasting, I returned to the Donut Cave.





By them time I got back to the Cave, my bag was completely soiled with oil and my donuts were crumbled to shit, but it was still quite delicious.


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