Perhaps you’ve heard of a little craze called the cronut™ (yes the trademark is necessary), it’s a hybrid of a croissant and donut from the folks at Dominique Ansel Bakery in NYC. My sister Cristi sent me a text about one week before I was set to go home asking me what the chances were I could bring her a cronut, her tone however was more suggestive of the fact that I would not be welcomed home cronut-less. So, I did my research.
I checked the bakery’s website, stalked Instagram for users who successfully received their cronuts, read up on NYC food blogs, all telling me what I feared: if I want a cronut, I have to arrive at the bakery no later than 6 am. Pft, little do they (the world?) know that I’ve twice waited days in line for SNL, I can do this.
After waking up at 4 am and literally just missing the L train (making me wait 25 minutes where I was literally the only soul at the station, except for the rat I saw), I arrived at the bakery at 5:50 am to be about 40th in line (since DAB makes about 200 cronuts a day and has a 2 per person limit, I knew I was in the clear).
the line in front of me the line behind me
It didn’t occur to me however how much longer after the bakery opened at 8 am that I would have to wait, rookie mistake. By 8:30 I had stepped out of the oddly cold August morning and into the bakery, after being greeted by Dominique himself! (have to say how much I love that he isn’t just a name attached to the bakery, actually saw him working behind the counter). the myth, the legend
After a $33 cab ride and a nearly three hour flight, we all made it safe and sound to Miami. All through my travels I thought the creepy guy from Willy Wonka and the chocolate factory was going to offer me $200 for one/ kinda wish he did. All in all, the cronuts and D.K.A. were worth the wait. They were like little flaky bites of clouds filled with coconut made by angels. I’m sure Cristi agrees, you know, especially since she didn’t have to wait.