trailer treasure

"They make maple bacon donuts."
"I'm sorry... WHAT?!"
"Yeah, it has maple icing and bacon on top."
(Gasping for joy like a three-year-old at FAO Schwarz. Continue stuffing face with olive-and-chevre ravioli.)
"Say that one more time."
(Ok, now friend is looking at me with a slight air of horror. Am I drooling whilst reloading my fork? Too much?)
"Umm, maple and bacon donut."
(Chest now heaving. Voice becomes embarrassingly urgent.)
"We. Must. Go. Get. One. Now."

Half an hour later, ravioli freshly eaten and bill just paid, we pulled into the parking lot of Gourdough's, an unassuming silver trailer in a parking lot in Austin with a menu of donuts so daring it makes you laugh and cry simultaneously. And as the sky dripped and the air froze, we made our selections (mine was easy -- bacon + donut = utopia) and crammed back into the car to crank up the heat and devour our fancypants fried rings.

Allow me to highlight the perfection of the Flying Pig donut (such was my precious dessert named) in greater detail. The donut was thick and yeasty, crisp on the edges and pillowy on the inside. The icing was drizzled atop it in the exact quantity necessary to balance the salty grease of the unglazed donut with the cheek-puckering sweet of maple syrup. The bacon? Sigh. Oh, the bacon! Four curly, chewy-crispy pieces of pig belly cradled atop the pastry with the attention of a sculptor!

Within five bites, I had declared my bacon donut one of the most delicious things I've ever ingested, ranking among my mother's dumplings and my Nanny's cobbler. It is a high honor, and Gourdough's deserves it. If it were not three hours away from my house, I would drive there every day. And weigh 467 pounds.

And if you do not go and get one the next time you're in Austin, I will have no choice but to slap you soundly for your culinary stupidity.