Stan’s doughnuts are heavenly. I’d order one of everything they make and eat it all in one sitting if I had no sense of shame.

photo: chicago reader

But I’m Catholic.

This is the 4th of a multi-part prophesy on coffee, free WIFI, and doughnuts in Wicker Park, in the wake of the gentrification apocalypse. To read it from the beginning, click here. For a listing of all the Wicker Park cafés and restaurants miLam has reviewed, click here.

Log On, Chicago. Edition XI/iv

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Stan’s Donuts

1560 N Damen Ave

I’m at Stan’s Donuts, which is located at the very center of the Wicker Park universe, at 7:21 AM, watching hoards of 30-somethings walk toward the Blue Line. Ironically, none of them is carrying an artist’s folio.

I’m eating a Biscoff pocket, which is a square, yeast-style doughnut filled with Biscoff cream. I didn’t know that there was such a thing as Biscoff cream. I knew only of the Biscoff cookies that used to be the one good thing about flying. OK, I guess “getting there fast” is also a good thing. But now it’s the only thing. The doughnut is beyond delicious: soft, sweet, flavorful, comforting, still warm from the oven. It tastes the way love feels … before you move in together and discover that love has no qualms about using the toilet while you’re showering. The cream filling in this doughnut is dense and rich, but there’s exactly the right amount of it to complement the cake. I’m washing it down with a double espresso that’s pretty good.

I’ve also had the banana pocket (uh huh), the chocolate-orange old-fashioned (the perfect doughnut to give up for lent, because it sounds irresistible, but it’s actually too sweet – so it’s kind of a relief to not have to eat one for a few weeks), and the buttermilk bar (outright buttermilky, with tones of shortbread and a tinge of sponginess in the texture … unfuckingbelievably good).

featured image: chinesegrandma.com

I’m listening to a customer who’s calling out the doughnuts he wants in his dozen, “…two chocolate orange, two glazed, two banana pockets.” He’s rattling them off with the enthusiasm of a 6-year-old boy who’s naming all the things he wants for Christmas, but he’s glazed his excitement over with just enough control to keep it appropriate for a grown man.

Stan has wireless. Stan has seats, too: cute enough to make you want to sit and have your doughnut here, but just uncomfortable enough to make you want to keep your stay short. A single electrical outlet that I can see, under the long table.

By the way, Stan, The War on Drugs is not doughnut shop music. What is doughnut shop music? I don’t know, but it’s definitely not pellucid space rock with a gritty veneer. My head is hardly even functioning at this time of morning and it’s like you’re trying to force it into warp drive. Before 8 am, one needs music that will carefully straighten out their brain, order it, prepare it for some logical thinking. Instead, I’m getting bang-bang-hit-bang bang-bang-hit-bang bang-bang-hit-bang bang–bang–fill … and I find myself having to try to defend my delicate state of mind against it. Give it to me at 3 PM, when I need it to prevent me from taking a nap, sure! Give it to me with a burger at 5 PM, yeah! Give it to me with a beer at 7 PM, and I’ll use its lost-boy-with-a-big-beat vibe as a soundtrack to my plea for sympathy sex. But not with my doughnut. I’m sure that Aunt Linda would give your music a solid

photo: snl.wikia.com

6/20/14, 7:10 AM7/23/14, 6:38 AM

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For Further Reading: The Serious Eats Doughnut Style Guide

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