Doughn’t Let the Name Fool You: Far from the Assembly Line at Doughnut Plant

After my recent post about Cronuts and croissants, it seems only fitting that I complete the set with a look at a doughnut shop. I’ve never really felt the urge to explore the doughnut options in New York — to be honest, doughnuts fall pretty low on my list of desired desserts. It’s probably due to my limited exposure growing up, where my doughnut encounters consisted of rec soccer game boxes of Dunkin Donuts’ Munchkins, Entenmann’s Pop ‘Ems, and the occasional cider doughnut on apple picking trips. My Californian friends tell me that doughnuts are a whole different story on the West Coast, and perhaps if I had grown up there, I would have at least had more of an appreciation for a solid deep-fried delicacy. But with the nearest Krispy Kreme location states away, I puttered along in ignorance. Believe me, I was perfectly happy taking those Pop ‘Ems down when the opportunity arose, but no doughnut had ever truly made me think twice about what I was biting into.

My first glimpse into the larger doughnut universe came during my first year working in New York. A coworker was gifted with a large box from Doughnut Plant, a decadent doughnuttery on the LES. He was generous enough to share his goodies with the office, and in doing so, unintentionally opened up a personal Pandora’s Box of possibilities for me. There was nary an oozing Boston Creme Pie or half-glazed cruller to be seen. Instead, square and round yeast and cake donuts with exotic flavors like Lavender, Blackberry, and Pistachio were laid out in neat rows before me,  and as I bit into a coconut cream doughnut, I suddenly found myself fervently wishing they would open up a shop closer to the office.

Well, owner Mark Israel must have somehow heard my prayer, because less than a year later Doughnut Plant opened up a second location nearby in the Chelsea Hotel. But hopeless fool that I am, it took two years and a different job in a different state for me to finally pay a visit to the actual bakery. This weekend I finally made good on that promise to myself, braving the heat (on a day that just demanded ice cream — but goddammit, I was doughnut-bound and determined) and finally finding my way inside this New York doughnutopia.

First Impressions:

Doughnut Plant has a pretty extensive history for a New York bakery. This is not some flash-in-the-pan out-of-town whippersnapper trying to stake a claim on the dessert scene. Mark Israel has a family history steeped in baking prowess, and the origin of Doughnut Plant’s menu stems from his grandfather’s doughnut recipe. According to their website, Doughnut Plant has existed since 1994, first as a bicycle-powered delivery service that catered to such clients as Dean & Deluca and Balducci’s.  The original standalone LES location opened up in 2000, and besides the Chelsea shop, there are nine Doughnut Plants in Japan and one in South Korea.

The entrance to the Chelsea Hotel Doughnut Plant, unfortunately hidden by construction.

The entrance to the Chelsea Hotel Doughnut Plant, unfortunately hidden by construction.

While the entrance to the shop is pretty obscured from the street by scaffolding, once you’re actually standing in front of the doors, it’s hard to resist the allure of the Chelsea Doughnut Plant. The decor suggests a tongue-in-cheek play on the bakery’s name, featuring the industrial wrought iron and steel bars of a manufacturing plant, contrasted with brightly colored doughnut-themed decorations along the walls. Walking in, you’re faced with a visual dichotomy — on the right side is the counter, all metal and dark colors and serious business, while on the left there are tables and chairs made of lighter wood, fanciful decorated doughnut pillows on the wall, and even benches along the wall have a doughnut design on them. It’s Henry Ford meets Willy Wonka. I find the balance of whimsy and serious craftsmanship immensely appealing — just like Beecher’s, I really appreciate a place that recognizes how food can (and should) make people happy, whether you’re cooking it or consuming it.

The barred service area -- these doughnuts mean business.

The barred service area — these doughnuts mean business.

In an ideal world, these doughnuts pillows would be edible, or at least scraff and sniff.

In an ideal world, these doughnuts pillows would be edible, or at least scratch-and-sniff.

The Food:

I mean, seriously, how do you choose?

I mean, seriously, how do you choose?

Doughnut Plant has a rotating selection of doughnuts, based both on seasonal and daily specials. The variety is almost overwhelming, and I found myself struggling to pick a few flavors to try. Luckily I wasn’t eating alone — you guessed it, Jacob was along for the ride, or rather, driving the car, since he was the one really keen to check out Doughnut Plant in the first place.

There are ostensibly four options at DP — cake doughnuts, yeast doughnuts, filled yeast doughnuts, and mini-filled doughnuts, called “doughseeds” (aka DP’s version of a Munchkin). However, this overlooks the monstrous cinnamon bun (which looked outrageously tempting and diabetic-coma-inducing), as well as the churros. But this was not the time for such distractions — we were there for doughnuts, and doughnuts alone. After a difficult deliberation (chocolate hazelnut? blueberry? chocolate chip?), we settled on the Tres Leches cake doughnut, the Valrhona Chocolate yeast donut, and the Peanut Butter and Blackberry Jam doughseed. Good thing I had a salad for lunch.

The Peanut Butter and Blackberry Jam Doughseed -- great for jam lovers, but not salty enough.

The Peanut Butter and Blackberry Jam Doughseed — great for jam lovers, but not salty enough.

I didn’t seriously dislike any of our purchases, but the Peanut Butter and Blackberry Jam was my least favorite. I was surprised by this because it seemed to have everything going for it — I tend to like yeast doughnuts more than cake, I’m a huge peanut butter person (if it’s natural pb), and I tend to enjoy jelly doughnuts (especially from Orwasher’s). The doughseed was about double the size of a Dunkin Donuts‘ Munchkin, covered in a peanut butter glaze and speckled with real peanut chunks. The jam inside is made in-house, and I thought this filling was the best part of the pastry. The jam had a real natural quality to it, fruity without being overly cloying. The yeasty dough was light and full of air pockets (as it was for the Valrhona), and the glaze had a solid peanut butter flavor. My disappointment stems from my hope for a real salty/sweet one-two punch from this doughnut. I was surprised by the peanut pieces coating the outside of the doughseed — while their crunch added an unexpected textural contrast, the pieces were not really salted, and just didn’t add a huge amount, flavor-wise. As Jacob said, “If I were a Top Chef judge, I’d definitely call them out — you already had the peanut butter glaze, why add the peanuts on top?” Fortunately, DP offers other doughnuts filled with their homemade jam, which I’m much more interested in trying than their other pb doughnuts on a return visit.

The Valrhona Chocolate yeast doughnut -- surprisingly light, considering its diameter.

The Valrhona Chocolate yeast doughnut — surprisingly light, considering its diameter.

Jacob had his eye on the Valrhona Chocolate, despite being a professed cake doughnut lover. (Only after I happened to check their website did I notice that DP also offers a cake version of the Valrhona doughnut, so obviously he’ll have to go back and try that.) DP does not skimp on portion size for their yeast doughnuts. While their cake donuts are the more familiar, Homer-Simpson-dunk-in-coffee sized treats, the DP yeast donuts appear to be about 1.5 times the size of your average Krispy Kreme. Thanks to Jacob’s fist comparison, you can see we’re talking a Levain cookie/scone sized doughnut. This beast of a baked good was completely coated in chocolate, with a white icing V denoting its flavor. However, we were both shocked to discover that the inside was plain ol’ regular yeast dough, not the fully chocolate experience we were expecting. I can’t really complain about that, since the inside was perfectly airy and chewy and worked as a great vehicle for the chocolate outer layer. The coating had a prominent  and deep cocoa flavor to it. I think I would have preferred a slightly more bitter, smokier chocolate for the icing, since the sweetness of the interior dough would seemingly have the capacity to mitigate a stronger dark chocolate. Maybe I should try the Blackout or Triple Chocolate next time for comparison.

The famed Tres Leches cake doughnut -- a more measured doughnut -- let it grow on you.

The famed Tres Leches cake doughnut — a more measured doughnut that grows on you.

While waiting in line to order, I overheard a man say that DP is known for their Tres Leches cake doughnuts. I’m happy to report that this doughnut deserves those accolades. It was the perfect combination of glaze and filling, decadent without being overbearing. Although the cake dough was a little firmer than you’d find in a slice of actual tres leches cake, DP pipes a filling of sweetened condensed milk in the middle of the doughnut, preventing the insides from becoming too dry and crumbly. Like the Valrhona doughnut, the Tres Leches is fully coated, this time in a milky, vanilla-tinged glaze. It was more subtle in taste than I expected, but that made me appreciate the artistry all the more. I found this doughnut the most successful of the bunch because of its distance from conventional glazed doughnuts. While all three of our picks were inventive and beautifully rendered, the Tres Leches stood out because it made you consider the makeup of the doughnut while you were eating it. I’m sure I’m overthinking it (because this whole blog is pretty much about overthinking food), but if Mark Israel’s aim is to make innovative doughnut flavors that give you pause, well, he hit a home run here.

Final Thoughts:

You can't avoid doughnut imagery in this place -- look down at the bench you're sitting on!

You can’t avoid doughnut imagery in this place — look down at the bench you’re sitting on!

All in all, that first Coconut Cream doughnut I experienced from Doughnut Plant may never be bested, due both to nostalgia and to the eye-opening push it gave me into the world of  exotic doughnuts. However, everything I tried at Doughnut Plant this time around was artfully executed, from unexpected flavor combinations to perfectly baked and fried yeast and cake dough. It’s just plain fun to walk in there and see all the doughnut-mania, and once you do you’ll pretty much be unable to resist the alluring rows of glazed and gleaming doughnuts, begging you to chomp down on them. These ain’t your momma’s doughnuts, and if you’re open to a postmodern pastiche of desserty decadence, then step right up and see what Mark Israel can do for you. You might just find that your favorite type of creme brulee is the deep-fried doughnut kind. For those with an adventurous sweet tooth, Doughnut Plant is definitely worth checking out.

Doughnut Plant

220 West 23rd Street, btwn 7th & 8th Aves.

http://doughnutplant.com

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A Tale of Two Bakers: Dominique Ansel’s Cronut v. Breads Bakery

All right, my friends, it’s time for a croissant cagefight, a donut deathmatch. We’re talking full on pastry prizefighting. In this corner we have … the up-and-comer, the hot new hybrid, the latest culinary craze to hit Manhattan — Dominique Ansel’s one and only Cronut! And in the other corner … the tried and true technician, the desert darkhorse, the archetypal archduke of allspice — Breads Bakery’s Almond Croissant. It’s a throwdown for the ages, and the only type of warfare I readily endorse. So (in what must be a violation of a trademarked catchphrase) … let’s get ready to crumble!

Dominique Ansel Bakery‘s The Cronut:

For those who may be unaware of the Cronut Mania overtaking Manhattan at the moment, here’s a bit of context. Dominique Ansel, formerly of the Michelin-starred Daniel, and currently one of the top pastry chefs in America, recently devised a new form of pastry. His personal Frankenstein’s monster is a half-donut, half croissant hybrid, and therefore was christened The Cronut. Arriving last month, the pastry swiftly sent shockwaves through New York’s foodie scene, eliciting the kind of fervor that might seem more reasonable at a Twilight premiere. Lines began to form at Ansel’s Lower East Side bakery, and as they stretched longer and arrived earlier, Ansel had to start instituting rules (outlined on the “Cronut 101” page of their website — yes, this exists). The bakery can only produce between 200-250 cronuts each day, so customers were limited to only two per in-store purchase, six if you manage to get on the pre-order list — which won’t happen, because they’re already full. Oh, and if you want that in-store Cronut? Better gird your loins and bring some energy drinks along — you’re lining up at 6am for that buttery bad boy. The bakery opens at eight, so pack a sudoku book or two.

None of the above is a joke — this hyperbolic hysteria is actually happening each day in downtown Manhattan. A Cronut black market has developed, with seemingly otherwise unemployed and endlessly patient people offering hand-delivered Cronuts for those willing to shell out nearly 10 times the store price (one Cronut retails for about $5, on Craigslist people are asking for upwards of $50 a delivery, depending on the neighborhood).

My Cronut delivery, thanks to Randeep!

My Cronut delivery, thanks to Randeep!

 

I received my Cronut secondhand as well, but never fear, I did not sink so low as to entrust my dessert delivery to a complete stranger. A good friend and fellow foodie Randeep decided to endure the line and get a Cronut the oldfashioned way (well, the month-old-fashioned way, I guess), and was generous enough to let me buy his second pastry off him. So full disclosure: the Cronut I tasted was a day old. I did my best to reheat it in the toaster oven at work, but I recognize that my views are tainted by the ravages of time upon those delicate layers of dough.

The Cronut carrying case -- classy packaging, or commercial ploy?

The Cronut carrying case — classy packaging, or commercial ploy?

 

The Cronuts are packaged in a golden, pyramidal box, which could be viewed as either a way to placate the masses and elevate the experience (this is no Krispy Kreme donut, mon ami), or as an over-the-top, eye-roll inducing display of food fetishism. Guess which camp I fall into? Look, I know I’m one to talk in my glass house of Oreo and Levain cultism, but I sometimes I find the spectacle of food presentation a little unnecessary. I’m all for molecular gastronomy and innovative plating, but I don’t think the way you package a baked product needs to be any fancier than a white cardboard box. The beauty of Dominique Ansel’s Cronut is in the design of the pastry itself. The gold box adds a layer of pomp and circumstance that feels like a poor play to make me feel like the Cronut unboxing should be an event in itself.

The Cronut in all its sugar-crusted glory.

The Cronut in all its sugar-crusted glory.

 

Thankfully, as I alluded to above, the Cronut itself is a gorgeous display of craftsmanship. Even after a day of marinating in its own creamy innards, the layers of flaky dough were still distinct. Golden-brown and crispy on the outside, with a soft yellow, multilayered inside reminiscent of the croissant-side of its family, the pastry cream was still soft and oozing from the crevices. Cronut 1.0 was flavored vanilla rose, but Ansel is rolling out new flavors each month, so my June Cronut was lemon maple. Unfortunately, I’ve never been much of a lemon person, so I wish I had gotten to try the Cronut in its initial form.

Inside you can see the distinct layers of dough, and the cream oozing between them.

Inside you can see the distinct layers of dough, and the cream oozing between them.

According to Ansel’s website, the Cronuts are first fried in grapeseed oil, then rolled in sugar and filled with pastry cream, completing their donutification. This means that when you bite into the Cronut, the dominant flavor is that of the cream filling instead of the dough itself. For June’s iteration, the foremost taste is strongly lemon, with a hint of vanilla from the surrounding dough. I struggled to find any maple flavor at all, although it may serve mainly as a sweetener. A day after it was baked, the Cronut had indeed lost some of the lightness in the pastry, but you could still see the wafer thin and springy layers as you tore into them. The overall impression I got was one of eating a deep-fried croissant, perhaps because the basic architecture of the dessert was born from a croissant. I’m not sure what could have brought the Cronut closer to its donut heritage — perhaps its best thought of as a croissant adopted and raised from birth by donut parents.

All in all, while I applaud Dominique Ansel’s creativity and devotion to raising the pastry game, I think I’d rather try one of his takes on a more traditional dessert, like his highly regarded Kouign Amman (which was previously the most popular item on the Bakery’s menu).

 

 

Breads Bakery’s Almond Croissant (and more):

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Our other contender comes from Breads Bakery, down in Union Square. Breads is relatively new to the New York scene, opening in the beginning of 2013 as the first American outpost of the popular Lehamim Bakeries in Tel Aviv (Lehamim means “breads” in Hebrew). Located just off Union Square on East 16th St, Breads seems to still be flying just under the radar, despite earning the accolade of baking the “best babka in NY” from New York Magazine. When I visited the bakery/cafe last Saturday, I found a steady stream of customers but plenty of space to linger, sit and sample the menu.

Inside Breads -- the dessert and bread counter located up front, and the coffee is in the back.

Inside Breads — the dessert and bread counter located up front, and the coffee is in the back.

Breads offers both savory and sweet goods, with their loaves of various breads and baked items at the front counter, a coffee bar and selection of salads and sandwiches in the back, a small seating area in the middle. They win major points for an enthusiastic staff — everyone I talked to was willing to explain the menu and offer their own recommendations. Plus, you gotta love a place that not only offers free samples as you walk in, but also constantly replenishes the supply and rotates the sample selection. In the time I was there I got to try a fresh hard and crusty baguette, a boureka, and some onion bread.

A small sample of Breads baked goods.

A small sample of Breads baked goods. Note the rugelach on the left.

I didn’t get to test New York Magazine’s assertion this go-round, but I did buy a piece of rugelach, the other item Breads is well-known for. Both the rugelach and the babka are loaded up with a Nutella/Belgian chocolate filling, and covered with a sugar syrup after emerging from the oven, leaving a soft, flaky crust.

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Breads‘ rugelach, bringing me back to my days in Jerusalem.

My typical preference for babka or rugelach is cinnamon over chocolate, but man this was one phenomenal rugelach. You can detect just a hint of nuttiness in the filling, but the dominant flavor is the rich Belgian chocolate, similar to a ganache in texture. The dough is flaky on the outside, but yeasty within, the filling and the sugar glaze keeping it moist (and lingering on your fingers). Breads’ rendition reminded me of the personal-paradigm-shifting rugelach I had at Marzipan in Jerusalem. Maybe it’s because the chef behind Breads Bakery is Uri Scheft, a Danish-Israeli with an eye towards twisting up traditional breads, but a reverence for tradition with Jewish staples. For example, along with the dark Scandanavian rye loaves that fill the baskets at Breads, Scheft bakes up challah each weekend for Shabbat.

 

The flat but full-flavored Almond Croissant.

The flat, but full-flavored Almond Croissant.

But the more appropriate dish for Cronut comparison (Cro-comp?) is Breads’ version of an Almond Croissant, which Jacob selected. (Again, the lucky duck lives in the neighborhood — clearly I need to move to Gramercy.) While almond croissants are one of Jacob’s favorite pastries, I’ve only had a handful in my life, probably due to the poor quality of most of the ones you find at the local Starbucks or Au Bon Pain. Much like my rugelach experience, however, Breads’ take on an almond croissant proved eye-opening.

The pictures featured on Breads’ website show a familiarly puffy pastry, but the almond croissants we encountered at the bakery were the flattest I’d ever seen. However, the croissant was clearly baked with care, golden-brown with some slightly burnt areas near the edges. It appeared to be double-braided, almost like a challah loaf, and had marzipan piped on top, beneath a dusting of powdered sugar and sliced almonds. The first bite revealed that marzipan also filled the middle of the croissant. More viscous than the pastry cream in the Cronut, I strongly preferred Breads’ filling, since it gave a moistness to the croissant dough but held the whole pastry together, making it easier to eat overall. The lemon maple cream of the Cronut squirted out with each bite, leaving you with pastry cream on your hands and face. The more stable marzipan also allowed the taste of the dough to have more of a presence on your tongue. It made the almond flavor purer and more natural tasting than the common almond croissant, which tend to be differentiated from their original brethren simply by tossing a few almonds on top.

 

All in all, the Cronut and Almond Croissant fared equally on dough texture, but Breads wins out because of the basic architecture of its dessert. I think you need the integrity of a yeast donut to properly handle the pastry cream. In fact, most of the cream-filled desserts I can think of have a certain amount of heft to the surrounding baked dough — eclairs, cupcakes, even twinkies have a stronger structural base compared to the airyness of croissant layers. While the frying of the Cronut solidifies the dough a bit more after baking, the pastry cream doesn’t get absorbed by the Cronut, making the process of eating it a messier experience than its elegant appearance would suggestion. In the end, I sampled all three of these pastries long after they had been baked. Although the Cronut suffered the longest delay, even my friend who tried it fresh out of the fryer concurred that it was good, but not really worth all the hype. I’m happy for Dominique Ansel to get the business, because I honestly believe he’s pushing the industry forward, but on a blow-by-blow count, Breads Bakery wins in a knockout. The newest eye-catching, show-stopping fad can be pretty thrilling at the time, but sometimes all you need is a small tweak to familiar formulas to really be memorable.

Bottom line? If you can find your way to a Cronut with little hassle or time investment, give it a shot — it’s definitely a beauty to behold. But feel free to sleep in on Saturday morning if getting up at 5 sounds awful — Breads Bakery will be there, open until late and inviting you to sample and revel in some rich rugelach or commendable croissants.

 

Dominique Ansel Bakery

189 Spring Street (between Sullivan and Thompson)

http://dominiqueansel.com/

Breads Bakery

18 E 16th St.

breadsbakery.com

Afternoon Jam ‘Sesh

I know you were all concerned about the direction of this blog after my last post, but not to worry, this week I’ll be talking exclusively about food. Despite bold pronouncements of New Year’s resolutions to eat more greens and work on my willpower over Oreo temptations, this post puts me right back in my comfort zone of dessert. At least this time I can blame the wild wanderings of my hyperactive sweet tooth on someone else — my good friend Laura.  Laura is also a dessert devotee, but her most fervent affection lies in the realm of jam- and jelly-based confections. So when it came to a holiday gift for Laura, I attempted to think outside the box. Overly informed foodie that I am, I noted the number of bakeries and markets in our neighborhood that offer jam-filled sweets. And so partly inspired by The Grand Cookie Crawl, and partly inspired by my own sugar-related curiosity, I came up with the concept of a jam crawl through the Upper East Side. Obviously, Laura was very much in favor of my inundating her with jammy delights, and so off we went on our sticky adventure.

Baked by Butterfield, one of the bakeries I had singled out in my research (they advertise first as a donut bakery, before any other pastries), is unfortunately  closed on Sundays, so as a backup plan I stopped by my nearby Crumbs Bake Shop before my rendezvous with Laura. I picked her up a Raspberry Swirl cupcake, but since Crumbs is pretty old hat in New York at this point, I felt it was a mediocre placeholder. The Raspberry Swirl cupcake is a vanilla cake filled with raspberry preserves and topped with vanilla cream cheese and raspberry preserve swirled frosting. I’ve actually never had that Crumbs’ cupcake, but I do enjoy some of their other offerings from time to time — their cakes are a little dry for my taste, but I really like their buttercream.

Luckily, there were plenty of more deserving dishes in our near future. Once the cupcake was safely ensconced in Laura’s fridge, we set out on the real route. In my Googling I had discovered that as fate would have it, Laura’s apartment is within five blocks of some of the best jelly donuts in Manhattan. And so very quickly we arrived at our first stop — Eli’s Manhattan.

Eli’s Manhattan

Just one small section of Eli's Manhattan

Just one small section of Eli’s Manhattan

Eli’s is the east side counterpart of the famous Zabar’s. The market has several sections, from the restaurant/cafe TASTE, to the wine store WINE, to the kosher bakery and grocery departments. So, much like Zabar’s, they’ve got you covered from babkas to burgundies. The “jam pockets” at the small stand by the checkout initially caught Laura’s eye, but I insisted we venture further into the store, since it had been the promise of excellent jelly donuts that sent us here in the first place. Eventually we found them in the real bakery section, along with a smorgasbord of pastries — muffins, cakes, turnovers, croissants, anything you could think to pair with a cup of coffee, basically. After a bit of hemming and hawing, Laura decided on an apple turnover, insisting that the gooey inside was basically like eating apple jam. I decided not to argue since it was her holiday present, after all, but I picked up a jelly donut hole for myself, to see if it would live up to the hype.

Turnovers galore!

Turnovers galore! Yes, that’s french toast by the slice next to it, to give you a sense of the enormous variety available.

My little jelly donut hole, next to some iconic black and white cookies.

My little jelly donut hole, next to some iconic black and white cookies.

With uncharacteristic patience and restraint, we somehow decided to collect all the components of our jam fest before diving in, and so carefully stowed the Eli’s goodies and headed off to stop #2 — Butterfield Market.

Butterfield Market

Note the frozen yogurt bar right in the window.

Note the frozen yogurt bar right in the window.

I actually didn’t know that Butterfield Market existed until last week when I walked by it on the way to the subway. Unsurprisingly, I was most interested in Baked by Butterfield, located a few doors down, but the rest of the Market is still worth visiting. It reminded me of some of the smaller speciality markets throughout the city — there was a prepared foods counter full of options like freshly made chicken parmesan and pasta salad, a section with a small variety of interesting cheeses, some harder to find foreign crackers and cookies, locally produced dairy products, etc. However, Butterfield Market does stand out by offering a frozen yogurt and toppings bar, and by featuring select goodies from the bakery every day of the week. Alas, no donuts were on display (clearly a future review waiting in the wings), but amongst the packaged cookies and bars we found traditional Linzer bars, which Laura immediately snatched up. Her mother has an ancient family recipe for Linzer bars, and Laura was excited to compare them to this commercial variety.

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It’s the old-school crosshatching that makes it legit. And yes, raspberry was the jam of the hour.

With our anticipation mounting, we made our way just a few blocks over to our last stop — Orwasher’s Bakery.

Orwasher’s Bakery
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Orwasher’s has actually been on my “weird/wonderful food of NY” list for quite a while, since they are renowned for both their bread and their jelly donuts. Orwasher’s is nearly a century old, started in 1916 by Jewish immigrant Abraham Orwasher. While the company was sold outside of the family in 2009, it continues to supply a number of restaurants through the city with its artisanal breads. But we weren’t there for the raisin walnut pumperknickel. As Orwasher’s proudly boasts on their donut posters– “we be jammin’”.

The bakery itself is a nice size storefront, cozy but large enough to feature a small table or two if they wanted to.  Orwasher’s instead devotes its space to their retail offerings, including jams and nut butters (from Peanut Butter & Co., yes also on my list), artisan cheeses, coffee, different varieties of pickles, and of course bread and pastries. What sets these guys apart, however, is the way they approach their jelly donuts. Each donut is hand-filled to order, using these amazing looking “jam guns” to stuff the fluffy receptacles. They offer a rotating selection of preserves from Beth’s Farm Kitchen in the Hudson Valley (which they also sell by the jar). In our continuing loyalty to the raspberry, Laura selected the red raspberry filling, and I went with black raspberry for my donut (of course I had to get one of my own). We then let our jaws unattractively fall to the floor as the woman behind the counter shot up each of our donuts. Check and mate.

The jam options

The jam options

Unfilled donuts, and the ridiculous "jam-guns" in the background.

Unfilled donuts, and the ridiculous “jam-guns” in the background.

Laden down with our booty, we went back to Laura’s for the final scoring of the jam crawl. The bounty spread decadently before us, we dug in:

Jam to Jam Comparison

The fruits of our not so intensive labor. Clockwise from top left: Butterfield linzer bar, Crumbs cupcake, Orwasher's black raspberry donut, Eli's donut, Orwasher's red raspberry donut, Eli's apple turnover

The fruits of our not so intensive labor. Clockwise from top left: Butterfield linzer bar, Crumbs cupcake, Orwasher’s black raspberry donut, Eli’s donut, Orwasher’s red raspberry donut,                 Eli’s apple turnover

Laura set aside the Crumbs cupcake for a later dessert date, so her rankings were as follows: top pick Orwasher’s donut, followed by the Butterfield Linzer bar, and finally the Eli’s turnover. Unsurprisingly, the Linzer bar (which I also sampled) while well-made,  fell short of the family standard. I think for the most part it’s hard for a plastic-sealed product to seriously compete with anything home baked, especially since Laura’s mother is quite the cook.

Now onto my personal donut battle. Truth be told, it really wasn’t much of a fight. Perhaps I would have been happy with Eli’s contender if I didn’t have Orwasher’s to compare it to. I’m a fairly uneducated donut eater — I grew up with Dunkin Donuts, and despite the protestations of West Coast friends, find Dunkin a pretty inoffensive standard. Eli’s donut hole comes in at about 1.5 times the size of a Dunkin munchkin, but that seems to be because Eli’s is much lighter and puffier. One revelation from my donut adventure  is that Dunkin’s donuts are remarkably dense, which may be why they often form serious lumps in your stomach post-consumption.

Eli’s donut hole was covered with a fine layer of powdered sugar, and inside was filled with bright red raspberry jam. I appreciated the delicate handling of the powdered sugar — often after a bout with Entenmann’s or Dunkin I get concerned that I resemble a shaky-handed cocaine addict.  The filling was very tart, and it totally overwhelmed the mild vanilla flavor of the donut itself. I would probably have had a hard time eating a full size one, but overall Eli’s is solidly superior to a munchkin. The best bet would probably be to buy one in the morning, since I found my donut a little stiff on the outside, although the inside was still soft and pliable.

You can see the wrinkly texture of the outer layer, which was a little too chewy from sitting out too long.

You can see the wrinkly texture of the outer layer, which was a little too chewy from sitting out too long.

Orwasher’s is my real recommendation of the day. Even beyond the adorable novelty of the jam-guns and the fact that you get to embark on a choose-your-own-adventure, donut-edition, the quality of their product is superb. The black raspberry jam was slowly oozing out of my donut as I unwrapped it, revealing how decadently overstuffed the donut was. Unlike Eli’s classic white powdered sugar, Orwasher’s coats their donuts in granulated sugar, which I felt made more of a flavor impact overall, enhancing the dough’s buttery taste. The jam was well balanced and more deserving of being the star of the show, the tartness helping to combat the sweetness, and tasting much more like actual raspberries. One of the best consequences of the filled-to-order system is that the inside of the donut remains dry instead of slowly soaking up the jam and turning mushy (which happens with both munchkins and Eli’s donut hole). Overall, Orwasher’s donut reminded me of a well-made sandwich — you’re not likely to rave about the bread, but if it’s really good quality it heightens the whole taste experience of the sandwich. The only thing that would have made my donut better was it it had been warmed up slightly before being filled. I guess I’ll just have to go back and see if that’s possible.

All right, I'll make the pun -- talk about a donut jamboree!

All right, I’ll make the pun — talk about a donut jamboree!

Between the variety of filling options, the fresh-made ingredients, and the attentive staff, I would definitely recommend paying a visit to Orwasher’s. You can see in the pictures above what looks like a Boston Cream Pie donut, not to mention the assortment of cookies, and the rotating seasonal jams.

All in all, Laura seemed to enjoy our afternoon, so hopefully our jam crawl was a success. I certainly loved sampling new bakeries, and I’m always excited to explore more of my neighborhood. All three of our stops seemed like worthwhile places to take out-of-towners, but for a uniquely New York experience I’d suggest Orwasher’s over them all (I’d also pick Zabar’s over Eli’s for a must-go list, since Zabar’s just comes off as a kookier place). So if you’re itching for something with jam or jelly that isn’t toast or peanut butter, hopefully I’ve provided some viable alternatives. I just hope next year Laura isn’t expecting me to give her her own personal jam-gun.

Crumbs Bake Shop
(various locations throughout NYC, I went to 1418 Lexington Ave)
crumbs.com

Eli’s Manhattan
1411 3rd Avenue, New York, NY
elizabar.com

Butterfield Market
1114 Lexington Avenue, New York, NY
butterfieldmarket.com

Orwasher’s Bakery
308 East 78th Street, NY, NY  10075
orwashers.com