Sometimes You Feel Like a Legume: Dinner at Peanut Butter & Co.

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I am a peanut butter freak, and I’ve discovered it’s an ailment that has only gotten worse as I’ve aged. When I was younger I used to be very picky about the quality of the peanut butter I tasted — Ritz Bitz was authentic enough for me, but Lord, the indignity of lowering myself to the artificial flavor of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch. I was a loyal Jif girl, and looked down my nose at other peanut butter brands. And though I’d like to think that my palate has gotten more refined as I’ve gotten older, my love of all things peanut butter has curiously grown by leaps and bounds, breaking free of my previous (mis)conceptions and invading all aspects of my eating (did you know peanut butter tastes great with yogurt? salads? cheese?).

Way back in April of last year I mentioned my desire to visit Peanut Butter & Co., and now I am proud to say I can finally check that item off my NYC food-list. I’d heard about Peanut Butter & Co. years ago, but had never found the time to go downtown and visit their store, nor even try their line of peanut butters that I’ve seen slowly expand through the tri-state area. Thankfully, Laura, my partner in crimes-related-to-pb & j (see our Jam Crawl and our visit to Bantam Bagels), was kind enough to take me to dinner at PB&Co. as a belated holiday present. It was a trip nearly a year in the making, but for a peanut butter devotee such as myself, it was a decidedly necessary pilgrimage to the Valhalla of cream-and-crunchdom.

 

First Impressions:

Peanut Butter & Co. is located in Greenwich Village, just off of Washington Square Park and the hub of NYU. It obviously benefits from being so close to a huge student population, and its menu of sandwiches, cookies, brownies and ice cream seems tailor-made for hungover college kids.

The counter at PB&Co., with the kitchen behind taking up nearly half the cafe's space.

The counter at PB&Co., with the kitchen behind taking up nearly half the cafe’s space.

The photos I had seen of the cafe made it seem like a large space, but standing outside the doors it became clear that it’s a relatively shallow store, with nearly half of the real estate taken up by the kitchen and counter. Entering the cafe, you find the cashier to the left, a small retail section in the back featuring the titular line of peanut butters, merch, baked goods and drinks, and then to your right a collection of tables, seating probably the same amount of people as the average Manhattan Starbucks. The decor is friendly and pared down, the exterior of the store painted bright blue and white, and the inside evoking a classic American kitchen with pastel yellow walls covered in vintage advertisements for peanut and sandwich products.

Vintage ads show the legacy of peanut butter's place in American hearts.

Vintage ads show the legacy of peanut butter’s place in American hearts.

Honestly, I had no idea Marshmallow Fluff came in flavors other than "marshmallow."

Honestly, I had no idea Marshmallow Fluff came in flavors other than “marshmallow.”

The service style is a little odd. There’s no table service (you order at the counter), but they do bring your food straight to your table … sometimes (we had to go up and fetch our own dessert). We also encountered a somewhat strange scenario during our visit — generally, PB&Co. has a faucet at the counter that dispenses regular NYC tap water (since everyone including Barney knows that PB leaves you pretty parched), but it was broken, and therefore covered to prevent anyone trying to use it. This meant that when we asked for tap water, the cashier told us our only option was to buy a bottle of water, citing a violation of NYC health chodes to fill a customer’s glass from a tap behind the counter. Now, granted I don’t know the health code, but you’d think they could have gotten a cooler or filled a pitcher, rather than forcing people to pay and engendering ill will. But then again, it seems to be a bustling place with a steady stream of customers, so perhaps they think they’ll just try to get a few more bucks out of folks until someone really puts up a fight.

 

The Food:

Tempting, but perhaps a bit much for the first visit.

Tempting, but perhaps a bit much for the first visit.

In order to get the most out of the PB&Co. menu, we opted to split two sandwiches and share a dessert, ordering The Elvis, The Heat is On Sandwich, and the Bananarama Sundae to finish up. All of the sandwiches are served with both carrots and PB&Co. brand chips, which helps to fill out the plate a little bit. Not surprisingly, our sandwiches were ready in no time, so we could get down to some serious chewing.

 

The Elvis, perhaps underserved by a lack of bacon.

The Elvis, perhaps underserved by a lack of bacon.

The Elvis (“A grilled peanut butter sandwich, stuffed with bananas and honey”) is offered with an optional addition of bacon, and part of me regrets deciding to go without, because I think it would have added that extra salt and crunch the sandwich needed. The sandwich was very uniform in texture, soft and gooey from being grilled. Now both Laura and I agreed that almost any sandwich improves with grilling, but in this case, because of the melted quality of the peanut butter, it was nearly impossible to tell that we had chosen PB&Co.’s “Crunchtime” crunchy peanut butter, which I had hoped would mix things up a bit in terms of mouthfeel. The flavor was certainly pure and strongly peanutty, and ended up being the dominant note of the sandwich. I have to question the cafe’s definition of “stuffed” here, because both the honey and the banana seemed conservatively applied, getting lost in the melting swirl of the peanut butter. Still, you can’t fault the combination of flavors as a classic, and I thought the peanut butter itself was top notch. There’s just something so delightful and nostalgic about the oozing, gooey drip of peanut making your fingers sticky and forcing you to lick it off like a 5 year old. But Laura and I concurred that The Elvis was very much a sandwich we could have made in our own kitchens (even with PB&Co.’s own product), and gotten more bang for our buck.

 

The Heat is On Sandwich — not quite a Thai dish, but an interesting play on flavors.

The Heat is On Sandwich — not quite a Thai dish, but an interesting play on flavors.

The Heat is On Sandwich (“Spicy peanut butter and chilled grilled chicken, with a little bit of pineapple jam. Like a Thai satay — only better”) was definitely the most interesting dish of our dinner, and I’m glad that Laura convinced me to order this over another meatless option. The title refers to PB&Co.’s spicy variety of the same name, and I was a little nervous about how hot the spread would be. It turned out to have a substantial kick to it, with the inherent sweetness of the peanut butter up front and the cayenne really coming through on the back end. The chicken was firm yet moist, although it mostly served as a vehicle for the peanut butter’s dominating flavor. Similarly, it was hard to discern the pineapple flavor of the jam, although I appreciated the gelatinous texture and the jam’s use as a cooling element against the spicy peanut butter. Although PB&Co. describes it as similar to a Thai sandwich, I found it lacked the soy/umami taste that separates satay sauces from regular melted peanut butter. We got the sandwich on toasted whole wheat bread, and I had hoped that meant the entire sandwich would be grilled (see comment about the benefits of grilling above), but alas, the toaster touched the bread only. This was certainly a more creative and more filling sandwich than The Elvis, and I could see this being a knockout dish if it was first grilled, and then had the pineapple jam applied.

Now before I even comment on our sundae, let’s take a moment to discuss proper ice cream serving etiquette. Ice cream sundaes, if served in a tall glass or high-rimmed bowl, should come with long-handled spoons, preferably metal ones. Otherwise you’re left with an inadequate tool for digging deep to the bottom of the bowl to scoop out lingering hot fudge or an errant chocolate chunk, and risk getting melted ice cream all over your hands in the process of excavation. (This pertains mostly to hard-style ice creams — a soft-serve Carvel sundae, for example, will yield easily to a plastic spoon.)

The visually pleasing, if haphazardly constructed Banarama Sundae.

The visually pleasing, if haphazardly constructed Banarama Sundae.

The Bananarama Sundae (“What a banana split! Three scoops of ice cream, sliced bananas, graham crackers, peanut butter, Marshmallow Fluff, whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Wonderful for sharing, if you are so inclined”) was cutely served in a large mug, but arrived with only flimsy plastic spoons with which to tackle it. This made it difficult to get a bite that involved all of the elements of the dessert, especially considering the middle layer of solid chocolate ice cream. It was aesthetically pleasing, with a large dollop of whipped cream on top, drizzled with chocolate sauce and graham cracker crumbs. Generally the sundae comes with vanilla ice cream, but PB&Co. had sold out of it earlier in the day (a testament to the appeal of their ice cream, since it continues to be frigid in NYC). We opted for chocolate ice cream as the base of the dessert, and I’d actually recommend requesting it over the vanilla if you have the chance. I liked all of the individual components of the sundae, but once you dove in it seemed like the construction wasn’t given proper attention. I’ll admit I’ve become a bit biased about this after experiencing the intense consideration that goes into Big Gay’s Salty Pimp — first sea salt, then dulce de leche in the cone, then ice cream, etc. Here the Bananarama had chunks of graham crackers on the bottom, covered in peanut butter and Fluff, then the ice cream, then the whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and graham cracker crumbs. That meant that you had to struggle to get through the ice cream to reach the crunchy crumbs and gooey Fluff, which over time stiffened up to make things even more difficult. Initially it was super goopy and true-to-name fluffy, but by the end (and trust me, we didn’t dilly-dally, since Laura is as much of a fast-eating food honeybadger as I), everything had started to congeal and required a dedicated application of elbow grease. An easy solution would be to replace the chocolate sauce with hot fudge (frankly, always a good choice), which would have kept the Fluff warmer for longer, and allowed better mixing with the graham crackers and peanut butter sauce. And just like The Elvis, Laura and I felt like there was a serious lack of bananas — why so skimpy on the fruit, PB&Co.? But as a positive, the Bananarama allowed us to sample a variety of the toppings offered, so I’ll be able to make a more strategic order the next time I stop in.

Final Thoughts:

My trip to Peanut Butter & Co.’s cafe was a great holiday present, and I’m grateful to Laura for taking me. Overall, it’s a cute homestyle spot offering familiar and comforting, if somewhat pedestrian fare. I’m happy I visited and sampled the savory menu, but I think if I go back it’ll be when the weather warms up so I can try out some of their other ice cream options (word on the street is that their milkshakes are killer). When it comes down to it, unless I suddenly develop a serious allergy, peanut butter is going to be a big part of my life for the foreseeable future.  For all of the quibbles I have about the food at their cafe, I have to applaud Peanut Butter & Co. for giving peanut butter a proper place in the spotlight, and helping to spread George Washington Carver’s message of brotherhood and legume love.

 

Peanut Butter & Co.

240 Sullivan St. (between 3rd and Bleecker)

http://ilovepeanutbutter.com/sandwichshop

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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

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