Brian R.
Yelp
I found Beach Donuts in a Google maps search. Beach Donuts was exactly what I thought Beach Donuts might be. I was delighted to discover that, for starters, It was not on the beach. It was in a small strip mall, away from the quaint New England downtowns of Clinton and Madison, in a spot that was probably just reeds and trees 40 years ago.
Beach Donuts was not a colorful, glamorous hotspot. Half the plastic sign was ripped off, and it looked like it had been that way for at least a decade or two, glumly displaying its half-hearted "ach nuts" to Subaru outbacks and Ford explorers going forty toward Hammonasset. Almost as if, in the most New England way possible, you weren't supposed to find Beach Donuts if you did not already know about Beach Donuts.
There were no lines out the door, there were no colorful anything anywhere. The little strip mall it resided inside had not been painted or stained since 1985. Even the driveway was come as you are.
Walking in exceeded my expectations. The motif of rundown, old, "neighborhood locals only" chic manifested in the two round wood restaurant tables from 1978, and the counter that was gloriously brown. Everything was brown. The entire experience was brown.
Looking behind the counter of the selection of donuts, I knew I had come to the right place, because every single donut was also brown. There were light brown donuts and dark brown donuts and really dark brown donuts. Sure, there is a strawberry frosted in there, but the strawberry frosting was pallid, wan and sprinkle-less. And I think to myself about the New Haven burger staple, Luis' Lunch, where if you ask for ketchup they will throw you out. I almost feared asking if they had a strawberry frosted with sprinkles on it. I feel like the mention of sprinkles would have sent me packing.
I got half a dozen donuts for nine dollars. Not cheap, but I figured it would be worth it. After all, they had a sour cream doughnut, which was in addition to the buttermilk doughnut. I'm rarely in a place that sells donuts where there are more than one variety of bitter or sour donuts. I got myself a Boston Cream, a chocolate glazed, a sour cream, an apple cider, a sugar doughnut, and a Bavarian Cream. The entire box was brown. It was The spiritual antithesis of a Dunkin. I was in heaven.
I considered getting a coffee, but I have experienced in my travels as a New England pastry connoisseur, that for whatever strange reason, most bakeries have no idea how to make a good cup of coffee. I will stand by this wisdom to my grave. For me, the sweetness of the donut requires a bitter complement; Something strong to wash away lingering traces of cream filling and frosting and sugar. I need a decently strong cup of coffee, and inevitably I find that New England bakeries make coffee as if they are rationing for the Great War. It is like an essence of a coffee drink; A lingering waft of a church basement coffee during social hour. It is not the kind of coffee that I would hope for - the kind that erases the mouth's memory of the sweetness so I can return to it and enjoy it once again. I can't express how important this is to me. If I ever figure out how to manage my time to do 11 different careers at once, I will have a bakery that makes amazing donuts and chocolate chip cookies, with knock-your-socks-off coffee.
Instead, I took my half dozen donuts - donuts so large that six of them stuffed a normal sized dozen box. I took those donuts and drove 2 miles down route one to a Dunkin drive-in, where I waited in line for 15 minutes in my car, listening to Janelle Monáe being interviewed on NPR in order to get their dark roast. Do not coffee snob me. I know that Dunkin' Donuts coffee is not good coffee. But it is acceptable coffee, and it is just enough levels above bad New England bakery coffee, but just common man enough as to not be pretentious.
Driving up, I told the woman at the speaker box that I'd like a large black dark roast. She told me they didn't make dark roast anymore. They have midnight. Whatever you'd like to call it, I said. I'd like that.
Beach Donuts Are delicious, hearty, complex in their flavor, and brown. The sour cream donut was so rich that it took me an hour and a half to eat a second donut. The Bavarian cream was great. The cream was not sickeningly sweet, but milky and thick. The sugar donut was the only raised donut that I got, and I was surprised that it's buoyant yet dense texture. Almost like an edible memory foam mattress. That is not a bad thing.
I have three donuts to go, and about a quarter cup of coffee that is now lukewarm on my countertop. I'm thankful for finding Beach Donuts. It was the perfect "cranky old brown New England hole in the wall in the middle of a strip mall that was built in 1970" find that I had so longingly desired for.
