I took a Flexible Friday from work today so you know what that means – doughnut field-trip! Today we jumped on the subway and went to Baked by Butterfield on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Flexible Fridays mean typing with one hand while feeding my kids with the other so I actually ate them and used the “talk to text” function to get my thoughts down on my phone. Below are my exact thoughts as I ate the pastries. You’re super excited, I know!
Salted Caramel: I’m sorry, but this does not taste like a doughnut – it’s like some sort of cookie. It’s very soft. The caramel is sticking to the top of my mouth, which is fine, but I don’t taste any salt at all. It’s yummy, but it’s not a doughnut. They taste like Butterscotch Krimpets.
Black and White: Looks to the cookie Elaine, look to the cookie! Again the frosting on it is super moist and, again, it’s stuck to the roof of my mouth. It has more flavor to it than the caramel one. The doughnut itself is super squishy. But I really don’t feel like I can call these doughnuts. It’s like cake that’s around the there’s a hole in the center. But not like a “cake doughnut,” it’s like actual cake shaped into a doughnut. The chocolate frosting side is better than the white side – which is white, not vanilla. Just confectioners sugar made into a paste.
Triple Chocolate: This one is really good. I want to give up saying that these aren’t doughnuts but rather, just cake. But it is not a doughnut. It’s round and the pastry is quite moist, with chocolate frosting on top and then with sweeter, crunchy bits on top that taste like chocolate cereal. The combination of the three make this one the best of the bunch. This would make a great cupcake!
Red Velvet: How is this their best seller!? I love red velvet this taste nothing like it! The cake is bland and the frosting is overwhelming. It’s honestly awful and all I can do hope is that my husband thinks differently. That when he gets home he eats the rest of it because I hate to waste food, but I am absolutely not eating this doughnut.
P.S. The coffee wasn’t anything to write home about either. Meh.