One of the things I loved about Berlin, apart from the drunken hijinks and gritty funkiness of the place, was the fact that it contained branches of Dunkin Donuts. This pleased me greatly, for 'tis often I lament the disappearance of that very doughnut shop from Dublin. Ireland just wasn't ready for doughnuts in the nineties. Strawberry frosting was regarded with naught but suspicion and Bavarian Creams could go fuck themselves. As for the colourful hundreds and thousands adorning them? Poison, surely! The Irish public were having none of this American muck, it would seem.
How and ever, subsequent trips to London and America have revealed a far superior breed of doughnut. Krispy Kreme, to be precise. The last time I was in London with the Bear, I practically sprinted through the Harrods food hall, past the fancy Kensington shoppers and lost Japanese tourists to get to the Krispy Kreme counter at the back. I even took a photo with my phone of the doughnut conveyor belt thing that brings them around from the oven and promptly texted it home to my parents to make them jealous. I've gotten more than a few gleeful picture messages of these particular doughnuts myself from both my brother and my Dad when they've found themselves in the vicinity of Krispy Kremes. They've actually been known to fly home from England with two boxes of doughnuts as hand luggage.
It's a fanaticism rivaled only by my family's obsession with Tanora. (An obsession that invariably leads to the purchase of, oh, about eighteen two-litre bottles at Christmas time. And a few extra in case any aunts or uncles haven't managed to stock up before the rest of the clan snapped up every remaining bottle of it in town.) I recently made the mistake of 'Liking' the official Krispy Kreme Facebook page, which has thus far served only to send me into a fit of envy and despair with every update, as they can't be procured here. It's so silly but by Christ they're delicious. Tim Horton can go and shite as far as I'm concerned.
Having made the decision to attend this year's Irish Blog Awards with the Bear in tow, (I have somehow managed to get myself shortlisted for Best Humour Blog, which I'm really nervously excited about, given the ferociously great blogs that populate that category) I figured there would surely be somewhere in Belfast that one could furnish oneself with a box of Original Glazed and perhaps a box of assorted others, just to be on the safe side, like. Right? Wrong. Unfortunately it would appear not. WOE.