After recent comments (from Vanessa) regarding a majority of my posts centering around coffee, I decided to switch things up... and center one around doughnuts, because who doesn't love doughnuts? (The answer to that question is, "people without souls.")

A few weeks ago, I ventured to East Harlem in search of the kind of doughnut that dreams are made of - a Raspberry Sriracha doughnut the size of your face, at a shop aptly named Dough Loco. They had other unique flavors, like Maple Miso and Blood Orange, but my immediate choice always is and always will be anything including sriracha sauce. Halfway through the deliciously massive doughnut, I felt very much like chubby little Bruce from the movie Matilda after Ms. Trunchbull forced him on stage to eat a whole chocolate cake in front of the school. I pushed passed the sensation of what I assumed was early-onset diabetes and finished my doughnut with the same satisfaction Bruce had when he finished the cake, except with less clapping and cheering for me.


Grace and I decided to catch up last weekend over brunch at Atrium Dumbo, which unintentionally ended in us sharing a bowl of tiny brioche doughnuts and a mysteriously tasty dipping sauce. 


At one point in the conversation, Grace managed to veer off the main topics (food and Instagram) and began discussing fashion. "I try to always dress for the borough I'm in," she quipped. I loved that phrase so much, I politely informed her I was going to steal that idea.