No, this is not Chef Dominique Ansel's famous cronut (or disputed cronut if you think you invented it before he did), but it was deeply, deeply satisfying. I was picking up some small palmiers at Breads Unlimited in Bethesda when I saw this robust-looking doughnut. One of the bakers informed me it was cronut-esque: a blend of croissant and doughnut made from fried croissant dough.
From the side, it is wickedly thick with layers of dough, laced with sugar. A lot of sugar. And no doubt some oil, possibly butter? Lard? Whatever. I don't care.
While my daughter swooned over a massive chocolate chip muffin, I had a long, silent debate with myself about the cronut: I could get it, cut it up into eight pieces; have one small piece, share another piece with Eric; save the other pieces for people who would come over to the house later. That could work.
Palmiers, chocolate chip muffin, and cronut in hand, my girl and I walked over to a coffee shop, where she gingerly pulled apart her muffin bite by bite. I took one small bite of the cronut, which was flaky and sugary and just so good. I took a few sips of my coffee and contemplated the remaining cronut, which was huge. I worried that maybe it would be off by the time Eric finally got around to tasting it. We had a busy day ahead of us and it was the final game of the World Cup (who eats during sporting events??). What a waste.
I slowly pulled apart each decadent piece of the cronut and ate all of it. While sipping coffee. And thinking about Eric.
I have no idea if Chef Ansel's cronut is better (I'm guessing it is), but if this is third -- or even fourth -- place for best cronut, I'll take it. I will not, however, stand in line for a cronut, which countless people have done in New York City. I won't get involved in food crazes that involve waiting in any kind of line. Life is short. Keep moving. You'll need to after you've eaten an entire cronut.
