I’m a big fan, frequent patron, and advocate of diners, especially local non-franchised ones. There’s a transcendent quality about them that seemingly connects people to one another and connects us 21st century dwellers to a spirit of Americana that has all but become extinct – a time and place where neighbors knew each others names, where local business flourished, where time seemed to move a little slower, where a spirit of community was fostered in real life and not through social networking sites under the auspices of an avatar.
There’s that elusive yet unmistakable something about a good diner.
The way you can get a hot plate of slightly over-greased, yet made with love fare at the crack of dawn or in the dark of night – assuming of course your diner of choice is a 24-hour one, which in my opinion is a necessary quality to be considered legendary, to become a part of the fabric of local lore.
The way you can crumble into a corner booth and people-watch the demographic kaleidoscope; the way you can saddle up at the counter and take in the dance of waitresses scurrying to and fro – one with that side of ketchup, the other coming with biscuits and gravy, the other with the check – and tune your ear ever so slightly to notes of neighborhood gossip that come sailing along the air-conditioned breeze.
The way the menu is interspersed with pictures of the entrees and maybe a local ad or two – the diner menu is the high school year book of menus.
And of course, there’s the coffee. Diner coffee is never the highlight of the meal, never the main attraction, but then again…this stuff’s not built to win any awards, not made to be sipped…this stuff’s built for mass consumption. Multiple cups. The kind of consumption that brings with it an inherent waitress code – as soon as that off-white, non-descript mug of yours approaches the 1/2 way mark you better be ready to raise that thing in your hand and receive another pour. Carefully crafted cream and sugar ratios be damned, those pots are on a holster and you’re gettin’ a refill whether you like it or not. As for me? I love it. As a black coffee drinker, there are no ratio’s to be considered. Keep it comin’.
Which of course brings us to Donut Shop by Coffee People.
If diners have the ability to awaken a sense of nostalgia and remind you of years gone by, this brew has the ability to awaken that same sense and remind you of the coffee you’ve chugged at those diners with one crucial exception:
it tastes a heck of a lot better.
Yet even as it taste’s better, it still has that intrinsic quality about it. It’s consistently mellow; it’s a smidge thin yet appropriately so; it’s just a fraction sweet but again that seems right, it’s by no means sweet like a flavored coffee and the fraction of sweetness seems to be what provides its mellow, this-was-made-for-mass-consumption, no-coffee-snobs-here drinkability. In my previous review I mentioned that Black Tiger by Coffee People is the robust, rich brew you want to clear the fog in the morning but not necessarily to drink throughout the day. Donut Shop is the counterpart; if you’re looking for cup-after-cup drinkability this is a great option. It’s no Daybreak by Caribou Coffee but alas, I’ve said too much. We’ll get there soon enough.
Somewhere North 