Picture a sleepy little Carly waking up on the morn of her birthday and feeling in her BONES (so old and mature by means of growing up a whole year over night) that there was a fad that needed to be sniffed out. With a whole morning to fad out before my self indulgent, gift-grubbing festivities began, I went to my “thinking place” to do some research: Sun Nails (sorry, Lisa, Saigon nails was too far).
As I sat in my discount chair getting my toe nails ready for my big grown up debut, I began my search for a fad that would fulfill all my birthday needs: eating something disgustingly decadent (that was it, I only had one birthday need at the time). Should I go get a cronut? Hell no! How passe! BUT IT WAS TOO LATE — the mere thought of a delicious donut hybrid filled my mind and I knew my trend-seeking ideals were about to go down the toilet!
Then a magical thing happened…I came across an article about a new wave of donut hybrids…A WONUT. A glorious mixture between a waffle and a god damn donut. Praise the pastry lords! Good things DO come to those who wait (or, in my case, those who google for longer than 5 minutes)!
Lets rewind and introduce you to the world of hybrid food fads. You all remember the aforementioned cronut, a cross between a croissant and donut and also a beautiful catalyst for what was to be a journey down the road of one-upping in the pastry world. Since then we have seen ramen donuts, cookie shot glasses and all sorts of pathetic wannabes (sorry D&D this one’s on you).
As an aside, I’ll have you know I tried many LA-based cronuts at the peak of their faddism and came to the confident conclusion that Forage in Silverlake is the best in the city. Suck it. But get there early because they [annoyingly] usually make like 3 [are you people insane?].
But back to my birthday conquest for a deep fried waffle. While Chicago had pioneered the waffle-donut hybrid (and coined the name wonut) DK’s Donuts, a bakery in Santa Monica, had brought it west side and cleverly renamed the creation a Wownut. Great disguise, guys!
The pictures on various sites made these bitches look like heaven on earth, so I swallowed my hatred for driving west of downtown and took my pretty little toes and my pretty little pedicure flip flops on a road trip.
Luckily I had my “Carly’s Musical Mix” CD from my mix swapping high school days with the Fayzer (ref: the mastermind behind the Talon Nails experiment) and sang my grown up heart out to the forgotten gem The Speed Test to pass the excruciating 45 minute commute to the land of the tan.
By track 17 (My Strongest Suit) I found myself pulling into a strip mall that had surprising east side qualities (someone peeing on the 7/11) with a shockingly pink sign standing out among the rubble. DK’s Donuts was coaxing me in with open arms.
I had a small problem that PROBABLY isn’t a big deal but who knows: my toesies weren’t quite dry yet, thus inhibiting me from putting back on my non-salon designated footwear. I stood at a crossroads…did I drive slightly out of my area to only drive back home when faced with embarrassment?! Embarrassment had never stopped me before and it wouldn’t stop me on the most important day of the year!
I strolled into the curiously packed bakery with my flimsy flip floppies on and perused the goods. Apparently this place is not only known for its cronut imitation but also for their strange ube root donut, which are basically “healthy” donuts made out of purple yams.
I gazed upon the sweetness selection with a cartoon dog panting tongue. I was ready to get that nut.
As I scanned the selection I finally found the object of my conquest, a sad looking withered waffle covered in old frosting. This was not the birthday treat the internet had promised! And yet, I had come too far to back down. I ordered a mini Wownut (at $3, the large version of which will cost you almost $7) and my go-to backup glutton treat: an apple fritter. Word to the wise: this joint is cash only (a rule I wriggled out of with a few huffy sighs).
I sat in wait for my #wownut delivery and readied myself for disappointment.
I was pleasantly surprised when a freshly ironed little waffle was placed in my hands. All it took was a gentle suggestion from the donut dispensary lady to “eat it while it’s hot!” to make me take a seat inside the hot and crowded bakery and hoover the bitch on site.
The mystery of the depressing flaccid Wownuts on display had been solved!
I had a tiny bite of the “food” (it took literally all of my strength to not eat this thing in one bite) and found myself with the feeling of familiarity in my mouth…it was not a deep fried waffle at all! But a donut shaped INTO a waffle!
Do you understand the huge difference this makes?! Here I am, a birthday bizzo all gussied up in her toenails’ finest, thinking I’m about to eat a deep fried, frosted waffle and what do I bite into? A regular old cake style donut (the worst of all donuts!!) thrown into a waffle iron!
I mean, I ate the whole thing. And it should be noted I enjoyed the hell out of it. But had someone put a waffle in front of me in those crucial moments…I would have hardly had a Sophie’s choice on my hands.
I finished off the two treats in under 5 minutes, licked the lipstick off of my fingers, and rolled back into my little red coupe. The best part of this experience? The pride inducing 50 likes on my subsequent instagram of the experience.
So that is that — my Wownut birthday adventure turned into a sugar coma. What could a girl do except rent The Hundred-Foot Journey and take a 2 hour nap? In other words, I HAD THE BEST MID-TWENTIES MORNING EVER!
The evening took a thousand fantastic twists and ended up with my toes hidden but my life looking like this:
Regardless of the waffle donut or donut waffle, I still had myself a Boogie Night evening filled with all sorts of grown up happiness. The Fadometer (Carl-o-meter?) reads below “Meh” only because expectations were so high, and media was very misleading. Coming up next week…a very special Valentines Day post featuring the raging hormones of mothers across the English speaking world. See you then!