Time to Eat the Donuts
Ah, the doughnut. Sweet halos of fried dough that render the eater by turns ecstatic, sticky with sugar, bleary with nausea, and yearning for more. Eschewing the Dunkin Donuts and Krispy Kremes (now closed in RI), I set forth in pursuit of the locally made doughnut, the mythical corner donut shop, its counters full with newspapers, morning coffee and confections baked with secret recipes. In the spirit of Homer Simpson (devotee of the gorgeously pink-frosted version of this treat), I found a new motivation: doughnuts, and the possibility of more doughnuts.
My first stop was Old Time Donuts in Central Falls, owned by a Portuguese-American family since 1989. The shop décor has a charmingly simple sensibility, with colorful Portuguese flags and soccer photographs adorning the walls. A diner-style counter invites neighborly mingling. The plain cruller is a respite from the usual sweetness, but Old Time's version is a bit saltier than I prefer; a honey-dipped round is as delightfully soft and sweet as it looks. The multi-colored jimmies doughnut, with fried dough under its frosting, tasted decidedly croissant-like. Not an unwelcome discovery, but an unexpected one.
Next in line was Donut Bazar in Cranston. I chose a powdered doughnut and a French cruller, both aesthetically pleasing, but neither particularly amazing. The cruller was the better of the two choices, with sweetness of glazed frosting preceding the buttery cake of the dough underneath. A round of Keno, along with doughnuts fresh from a viewable kitchen, seems to keep the locals coming back for more.
And then there is Allie's in North Kingstown, a pilgrimage for Rhode Islanders with a sweet tooth since 1968. Founded by Allie Briggs, the quaint red and white shop is now owned by his daughter. Inside Allie's, faced by a wall of shelves nearly spilling over with plump puffs of confection, it was impossible to resist a half dozen; the impulse to say, "I'll take that one... and that one... and that one..." is difficult to repress. Once I had ordered, my exhausted willpower and I headed outside to sit at one of the wooden picnic tables, still sticky with the errant frosting and jelly left by earlier customers.
The raised maple frosted was a revelation. Nearly melting in your mouth, it manages a level of sweet softness, bathed in maple that leaves the eater content - not semi-conscious. Other favorites were an old-fashioned chocolate coconut and a plain cruller. The purity of ingredients and overall presentation at Allie's is joyfully delectable.
In the doughnut world, there is a dichotomy of preference between the raised and old-fashioned versions. Raised doughnuts are the soft, airy type, left to sit and rise before being deep-fried. Old-fashioned, also referred to as cake doughnuts, are denser and less moist than the raised version, because the deep-frying occurs directly after the dough is cut. Usually people choose one or the other as their favorite, but at Allie's I found myself unable to decide: a bite of the raised and I was certain it was my favorite, until I took a bite of the old-fashioned, and so on and so forth.
All told, doughnuts are not for the faint of heart. At one point, I'll admit I could barely even mutter a groaning, "I think I'm going to die," before reaching for another piece. Doughnuts may make you happy, they may make you sick, and you may wonder at your sanity for taking yet another bite. But like most things dear, in the end, only the loyalty remains. And just the tiniest bit of indigestion.
