So now I sit confronted with the latest monstrosity — a sandwich that plants one of those Weird Flat Ovals of Egg and a few limp and depressed-looking strips of bacon in the midst of an entire glazed donut. It’s the sort of thing that Paula Deen would call a nice, light, amuse-bouche. The employees at Dunkin seemed surprised, both that this was actually an item on the menu and that someone would actually go so far as to order it. They kept asking me how it was, as I sat squinting at it and trying to screw my courage to the sticking place.
It tastes like the end of breakfast, when the syrup has leaked onto the cooling remnants of the bacon and eggs and congealed it into a sticky-sweet mass. It tastes like regret. If nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, to paraphrase Kate Moss (and clearly Kate Moss has never tried bacon), then this tastes about as good as accidentally feeding a 20-dollar bill into a vending machine that doesn’t give change feels.
You know the feeling when you wake up in the morning after carousing and you stare at your outgoing text messages and wince to discover that you have sent earnest strings of consonants to several people you hoped never to speak to again? This is the taste equivalent of that. It’s sweet and soggy and eggy and bacony at the same time. It is over quickly, but the taste lingers.
Some things are enjoyable separately but should not be combined, like your grandparents and pornography. Other things exist fine solo, but only when combined do they reach their true perfection — like, for instance, sodium and chlorine, which go from a volatile metal and dangerous gas to — table salt. This is one of the former, in my opinion. But you should try it, especially if you plan, as I do, to die early right after buying a parrot which you can force on your unsuspecting relatives, because those things live FOREVER.
I should mention that donuts and I have a long and sordid history. I used to motivate myself to walk to work with the thought that Krispy Kreme was the exact geographical midpoint between bed and the office. I made the mistake of filling out a survey about Your Health Habits with total honesty, right before lunch, and as a consequence a lady in Rhode Island who was somehow affiliated with my health insurance would call me every few weeks to express concern. “You walk to work,” she would say. “That’s good.”
“How else would I get my Krispy Kremes?” I would reply, and you could hear her hopes sinking. “If I get one more, I’m entitled to a free one!”
This was true. I would walk in, and the donut people would say, “The usual?” That is when you know that your life is heading in a good, healthy direction.
But this runs no risk of becoming the usual. As Ian at Wait Wait … Don’t Tell Me quipped, “I’m just going to abbreviate donut to don’t.”