I follow a doughnut truck on Twitter, as one does, and today – to my delight – learned that Carpe Donut would be parked close to my office. Headed that way, I thought that they only offered apple cider cake doughnuts. Made to order, I was more than fine with this singular offering. They are organic and reuse the old oil as biofuel for the truck. You really can’t go wrong. And yet, I was. You would think, following them on multiple social-media platforms, that I would have known about the doughnut ice cream sandwich. I was about to find out.
There is no real way to express the joy that is biting in to a crunchy cinnamon sugar cake doughnut and having the center be filled with vanilla ice cream. But today, thanks to the Frodo from Carpe Donut, I am here to give it a shot. It is one of those experiences that you don’t want to end so you keep taking another bite and another and another. The ice cream soaks into the doughnut, making the center this amazing amalgam of dough and cream. And the outside is crispy enough that it keeps it all together The combination means that there is no in between. You are faced with either the sugar/cinnamon/crunch or the soft/cake/ice-cream. And all you can do is say thank you. Although, in this case, I am thanking myself. And Twitter.
Of course, I shared with friends!
Erinn (who had a plain doughnut): Crispy, crunchy, nice and light on the inside. The cinnamon sugar smelled so hot and fresh, and the taste was so divine. Reminded me of a churro. Next time will dip into spiked Mexican hot chocolate. I could see how ice cream in the middle of this is loved and devoured by all.
Lacy: Holy deliciousness! That was amazing. I wasn’t expecting the ice cream to melt into the holes in the dough the way that it did—and it was a delicious surprise! I love that it made the inside a little soggy, but the outside was still super crunchy. Mmm mmm good. Thank you again!
And from Nate (plain doughnut):
Who knows what a sleeper is?
Think of your mom’s 1996 Volvo wagon. Boxy, heavy, built for soccer practice and soaked in suburban blah. A symbol of predictability.
When you see one approach from your rear view mirror and sidle up to you at the light, you don’t think anything at all. If you do, it’s ‘vanilla’, ‘safe’, ‘meh’.
She’s lame. You’re cool.
And then just as the light turns green—WahWahWAhWAHHHHH!
All you can hear as her smoke wraps you is the roaring of a twin-turbo Porsche inline 6 pulling hard through first gear, then power shifting to second.
She’s more. You’re shook.
By the time she’s in third, all you can see is your own naiveté swirling in front of you like a sugary sandstorm of wonder, tickling your nose, bewitching the rest of you.
She’s gone. You want more.
This doughnut is that car.