Friday, March 11, 2010
The Donut Pub @11:07 pm
Chelsea
Okay, last night we found out that sometimes no destination can be an okay place indeed. But tonight I have a place to go to and I know it’ll be open, because it never closes. One of my fears doing the 365 blog last year was that I would have to work late some night and all the bars would be closed. Well, I had an ace up my sleeve and that card was the Donut Pub on 14th Street in Chelsea that's open 24 hours. It’s a “pub” so technically I wouldn’t have been out of bounds. Well, I never had to play that card, so tonight I’m flipping it on the table. It’s off to the Donut Pub we go.
Another shitty, rainy night out here. Blah.
Fuck you Dunkin' Donuts, I'm going to a real, LOCAL, donut shop.
This is a festive block in Chelsea, it's always lit up. We're almost there.
And here we are, The Donut Pub! I love their neon signage.
Just like the sign says, everything is baked here fresh.
Some muffins on display in the front window.
And since it's such a rotten rainy night, there's plenty of seats at the marble-topped bar.
The selection dwindles a little at night, but still a nice looking bunch of donuts and pastries.
And there's cookies too. I think they have the best black and white in town. But we're here for a donut tonight, so I ordered the marble glazed.
And this gentlemen brought it along with the diet Pepsi I ordered. If you're curious why I'm not drinking coffee, there's a story explaining it after the photos.
I see all...with the donut eye!
Delicious and fresh!
Some of the choices on the menu near the ceiling.
Another view of the bar.
Here's a painting in the back area of the Donut Pub. It's a cool painting, but I think somebody slipped a hit of acid into the painters jelly donut.
You can get your very own Donut Pub coffee mug right here.
I've never seen the donut cake, but have always been intrigued by the marvelous concept.
Here's an article from the Daily News about when Dunkin' Donuts moved in just a few doors down. Too bad the Donut Pub kicked that chain's ass all the way off the block! Everybody stayed loyal to the Pub and I was proud of my neighborhood for ignoring a chain.
A long shot of the marble bar.
There's a marble railing to set your donut down and lean on, if the bar is filled up.
Okay, its out the door...
And back into the rainy night. Goodnight everybody and see you tomorrow after dark.
-------------------------------
Coffee Talk
I don’t drink coffee. I never have and I never will. In fact I’ve only had one sip of java my whole life and that is truly a painful memory, but one I’ll share with you.
I think I had just turned 12-years-old and I remember sitting at the breakfast table with my family. I was drinking grape juice and my mom was making breakfast for everyone. All of a sudden my dad turned to me and said, “You’re getting to be a young man now, why don’t you have a cup of coffee?”
It felt nice to be singled out and I was pleased my dad thought of me as a young man. So I happily trotted over to the kitchen cupboard, got a coffee cup and poured coffee into it from the shiny, stainless steel pot on the kitchen counter.
“Blow on it a little, so you don’t burn your mouth,” My mom instructed.
I cocked my head to the left, rolled my eyeball’s towards heaven and all it allows and said, “Duh!” By the way, this was decades before Charlie Sheen made it the catchphrase of the moment. And I am in no way claiming to have invented, “Duh!” I’m just throwing that out there for the record.
So I blew on the mysterious, steaming, inky-black liquid, put the cup to my lips and I took a small sip. It took about one and a half seconds for the taste to kick in and when it did I ran to the sink to spit that foul shit out of my mouth.
Everybody laughed and my mom asked what was wrong.
“Coffee tastes horrible!” I said right before I rinsed my mouth out with water.
Once again my family laughed at me and my dad tried to explain coffee to me.
“You’ve got to acquire a taste for coffee,” he explained. “If you drink it every day, you’ll learn to like it.”
“I’m not going to, I’ll never drink coffee again,” I defiantly shot back.
My dad just wearily shook his head and said, “Fine, do whatever you want to do.”
I went back to my grape juice and grabbed the comics page out of the newspaper pile on the table. I turned to Beetle Bailey to get that horrific moment out of my head. I can’t remember the plot of that day’s strip, but it probably involved Beetle Bailey loafing and Sarge beating the shit out of the hapless Private. I’ve always wished that Beetle Bailey would grab an M-16 rifle and spray that fucking lardass Sarge with a liberal dose of “friendly fire.” Anyway, I digress, back to coffee.
I’ve never understood, “acquiring a taste to like something.” I guess if you ate mud every day it might eventually become palatable, but why if you don’t like it in the first place? I’ve had people give me attitude when I tell them I don’t drink coffee. Somebody once actually said to me, “You can’t be a real New Yorker if you don’t drink coffee.” And this person lives in Staten Island. I’m not even going to go there. Staten Island, that is!
Hey, if you like coffee, great, have a pot of it. Go swim in a pond of that shit and knock yourself right the fuck out. But quit trying to ram that foul fluid down my gullet and stop looking at me like I’m crazier than three fiddlers playing unstringed violins when I say, “No, thanks, I hate coffee, I never drink it and I never will.” If I need a caffeine boost, I’ll have a diet Mountain Dew, please and thank you.
Oh, and I’ve had people say to me (in superior tones, no less), “I bet you didn’t like beer the first time you drank that!”
And you know what? I didn’t. I’m still not that hog-wild over the taste of beer. I’d much prefer a cold lemonade over a cold beer, if we’re just talking taste. But beer has one little, teensy-weensy thing going for it: If you drink a lot of it you get really fucked up. If you drink a lot of coffee you just get edgy and your nervous system goes all Barney Fife on your ass.
So beer trumps coffee any old day of the week. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a review to write. Time for a diet Mountain Dew.
-------------------------------
Review
A Dunkin’ Donuts had the sheer audacity to set up shop just doors away from the Donut Pub a few years ago and got its ass kicked in by the Pub and now it’s shuttered. Score one for a local merchant.
The Donut Pub has been on the block for over 40 years and is one of the best donut huts in Manhattan. The place is sparkling clean and there’s almost always a seat at the bar to relax and enjoy the calm ambiance and fresh food that awaits. The staff is friendly and the crowd is mostly locals from the neighborhood, but newbies are always welcome and treated as warmly as the coffee that’s poured alongside the tasty, circular treats. I’ve heard that the java here is first-rate, but, ahem, I’ve never had any.
Donuts are the star of the show here and they’ve got pretty much everything covered here. Different varieties of old fashioned, donut rings, filled donuts, pastries, buns, muffins and twists are all on display behind the counter. In addition to sweet, there’s also savory with a nice selection of bagels, soups and nine different sandwiches including: chicken salad, ham & swiss, turkey and a ham, bacon and egg sandwich on a fresh roll.
Stop by and enjoy a slice of old school New York via a freshly frosted chocolate donut.
Donut Pub
203 W. 14th St. (Near Seventh Ave.)
212-929-0126
Further reading: Food Mayhem, Jeremiah’s Vanishing New York, Road Food and New York magazine.
London calling at the top of the dial,
After all this, won’t you give me a smile?
24 Comments