Last month’s announcement that an industrial building in the town of Lowestoft, Suffolk, will receive its first Krispy Kreme drive-thru is good news for people who love donuts and make very little.
The plans – which were submitted to East Suffolk Council in November last year – focus on “the demolition of the existing industrial building and the construction of a drive-thru kiosk unit, as well as the installation of EVCP” in Lowestoft have now been authorized.
Soon, donut lovers in this coastal town will be able to order their Chocolate Custard, Pretty Little Unicorn or Original Glazed, from the comfort of their own car.
And they’re not alone, because like the fast food chains before them, the donut concession stand is becoming a new American addition to the British culinary landscape.
Since opening its first UK store in Harrods in 2003, Krispy Kreme has become a household name in the fried sugar sector and, from Bristol to Braehead, now has eight drive-throughs (yes, I’ll use the American spelling, as cloying as an Oreo Kreme Shake). Homer Simpson would approve.
I recommend staying away from the pretty little pink-hued unicorn, a variety so violently sweet that it provokes an external body experience, says Tom Parker Bowles.
But have we really reached this point? A person so averse to exercise that she doesn’t bother to walk the 20 or so meters from the Tesco car park to the Krispy Kreme cupboard, satisfying her urge without even undoing her seat belt. OK, I agree that the supermarket totter isn’t the Marathon des Sables, but at least you’re burning off some of the 195 calories in an Original Glazed.
In America, of course, the drive-thru is as much a part of the culture as big cars, big skies, and big bellies. There are drive-thru banks, burger joints, bars, and even strip clubs.
It’s not that all Americans seem to agree. “I don’t like the Krispy Kreme drive-thru menu with its little faded donut photos,” fumes one aficionado on a site dedicated to the subject. “People like to look through the entire donut range to see in person what looks good. You smell the different flavors and it’s a total sensory experience.
The Original Glazed is certainly one of the best donuts in the world and, if you live in Enfield, it’s certainly worth a try, says Tom.
So, on a cool early spring day, in a nondescript industrial park next to the A10, I see for myself. By midday, the Enfield Krispy Kreme drive-thru is deserted – unlike the MacDonalds across the parking lot. Yet the store itself does brisk business, as people wander around, clutching these instantly recognizable boxes. I walk up to the mic, sit down next to the bright new menu (no “faded” photos here), and order a dozen sugar-glazed beauties. By the time I’ve walked about five meters to the next window, my order is ready. Full points for speed of service.
“Is it always this empty?” I ask Louisa, who is behind the counter. ‘Oh no. It’s extremely popular in the evening,” she says, smiling. “There are always lines of people wanting to take their hot donuts out of the oven.” Hot Krispy Kreme? Now you speak.
“It’s called the Hotlight Experience. You can collect them between 7 p.m. and 10 p.m. But we stay open until one o’clock every evening.
So I retire to the parking lot, with my box and a large black Americano. The coffee is really bad, with all the charm of scalding ditch water. And I recommend staying away from the pretty little pink-hued unicorn, a variety so violently sweet that it induces an out-of-body experience not seen in these parts since the Enfield poltergeist.
Once the rush is over, it’s time to upgrade to an Original Glazed. Voluptuously soft, seductive and light, and thrillingly sweet.
Definitely one of the best donuts in the world and, if you live in Enfield, it’s certainly worth a visit. For the rest of us, however, the good old-fashioned shop, with a short walk, will do just fine.
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