Our man with the sugar craving visits the Krispy Kreme drive-thru (sic)
...where the coffee’s like ditch water but the ‘Original Glazed’ is delectable
THE announcement that an industrial park in the Suffolk town of Lowestoft will be getting a Krispy Kreme drive-thru is good news for those people who enjoy both doughnuts and doing very little indeed.
Soon the doughnut devotees of this coastal town can order their Chocolate Custard, Cookies & Kreme, Pretty Little Unicorn or Original Glazed from the comfort of their car.
And they are by no means alone, for like fast-food chains before them, the doughnut concession is becoming another American addition to our culinary landscape.
Since opening its first UK shop in Harrods in 2003, Krispy Kreme has become a household name in deep-fried sugar rushes and, from Bristol to Braehead, now boasts eight drive-thrus (yes, I will use the American spelling, as cloying as an Oreo Kreme Shake). Homer
Simpson would approve.
But has it really come to this? A person so exercise-averse that they can’t be bothered to walk the 20 or so metres between a Tesco car park and the Krispy Kreme cabinet within, sating their urge without even undoing their seatbelt.
OK, I agree the supermarket totter is hardly the Marathon des Sables, but at least you burn a couple of the 195 calories contained in an Original Glazed.
In America, of course, the drive-thru is as much a part of life as big cars, big skies and big bellies. There are drivethru banks, burgers, bars and even strip clubs. Like bad coffee and the right to bear arms, the drivethru is baked deep into the culture of their great land.
Not that every American seems to agree. ‘I don’t like the Krispy Kreme drive-thru menu with its tiny, faded donut photos,’ fumes one aficionado on a site dedicated to the subject. ‘People like to browse the full array of donuts to see what looks good in person. You smell the different flavors and it is a total sensory experience.’
So on a crisp, early spring day, at an unremarkable industrial park off the A10 in North London, I see for myself.
At noon, the Enfield Krispy Kreme drive-thru is deserted – unlike the McDonald’s drive-thru across the car park. Still, the store is doing good business, as folks wander out clutching those instantly recognisable boxes.
I drive up to the microphone, which sits to one side of the bright menu (no ‘faded’ photos here), and order a dozen of the sugar-glazed beauties. By the time I’ve driven the five or so metres to the next window, my order is ready. Full marks for speed of service.
‘Is it always this empty?’ I ask Louisa, who is behind the counter. ‘Oh no, it’s extremely popular at night,’ she says with a smile. ‘There are always queues of people wanting to get their doughnuts hot out of the oven.’ Hot Krispy Kreme? Now you’re talking.
‘It’s called the Hotlight experience,’ she adds. ‘You can get them between 7pm and 10pm. But we stay open until one every night.’
And so I retire to the car park with my box and a large black americano. The coffee is reliably rubbish, with all the charm of burning hot ditch water. And I recommend staying well clear from the pink-hued Pretty Little Unicorn, a variety so violently sugary that it provokes an out-of-body experience not seen in these parts since the Enfield poltergeist.
Once the rush has subsided, it’s time for an Original Glazed. And very good it is too. Voluptuously soft, winsomely light, and heartpoundingly sweet. Definitely one of the best doughnuts on earth and, if you live in Enfield, certainly worth the drive.
For the rest of us, though, the good old-fashioned shop, complete with short walk, will do just fine.
‘Sating the urge without undoing their seatbelt’ ‘People want them hot out of the oven’