Like rock n’ roll, Krispy Kreme is a uniquely American blend of several distinct influences: the round shape of bagels, the light texture of New Orleans beignets, the sticky glaze from Heaven itself. The second, of course, is hell yeah Krispy Kreme rules. The first, and probably correct, way to look at this is that “popular” culture is flattening and homogenizing us as a people that an emphasis on social media virality and meaningless, ephemeral TikTok fame is an even cheaper sugar high than a Krispy Kreme donut and these are all symptoms of a culture that’s lost touch with its own history and unable to produce anything of lasting merit itself. Alas, I doubt there will be any kind of foreign-exchange program in the Popeye’s infrastructure, but it’s Popeye’s, so who knows?) (Not going to lie, watching Popeye’s servers - legendary for their DGAF attitude, particularly at the Atlanta airport - taking on persnickety, arrogant French diners is the kind of bloody cross-cultural conflict that would keep me happy for an entire month. and Five Guys have long had toeholds, but they are rapidly expanding their footprints with plans for hundreds of new locations across the country.” Burger King, KFC, Starbucks, Domino’s Pizza, Chipotle, Steak ’n Shake, Carl’s Jr. Wendy’s has announced plans to set up shop in France. “In the spring, Popeye’s fried chicken drew huge crowds in Paris when it opened the first of 350 restaurants planned across France. If you’re an aficionado of French fine dining - ever-present wine, leisurely conversation, art de la table - this graf from the Times will freeze your donuts: The Times piece notes that Krispy Kreme’s arrival in Paris is part of a growing French post-pandemic fascination with quick-delivery, photogenic, on-demand American fast food culture. You don’t need a degree in urban planning - or French literature - to see the metaphor at work here. It’s a couple blocks from the Louvre and Notre Dame Cathedral, housed in a building that once hosted a Michelin-starred chef’s restaurant. The Krispy Kreme is located on Passage de la Canopée, which is a so much prettier address than, like, “Tennessee Street” or “Route 301” or wherever the hell most American ones are sited. The story details the opening of the first Krispy Kreme store in France, a full-on American-style, definitely-not-staged social media spectacle with hungry influencers camping out the night before, then streaming their treasures to other French youths, who in turn descended on the shop. They got you too, didn’t they, mon frère. So when I saw a New York Times headline this week - “Hot Glazed Doughnuts on the Menu, and Parisians Can’t Get Enough” - all I could do was nod in weary agreement. I’ve never maimed anyone while in pursuit of a hot Krispy Kreme, but that’s only because the opportunity hasn’t yet presented itself. That thing is a shining beacon, an alluring siren call to all who desire three full days’ worth of sugar in one warm, pillowy package. You want to see cars wheeling bootlegger turns in the middle of six-lane roads, illuminate that “Hot Donuts Now” light around 11 p.m. That said … if the “Hot Donuts Now” light is on at Krispy Kreme, brother, it’s time to throw down. Independent businesses are a joy and a treasure, and you should frequent them as often as possible. In most cases, we avoid the big-box brands - sorry, Dunkin - and go instead for the artisanal small-batch craft donuts, where they’ll happily inject roughly three gallons of Bavarian kreme into each donut pillowcase, or top a donut with enough sticky caramel to stop a charging rhino cold. Perhaps even as you are reading this very missive - assuming you read it shortly after I sent it out - we’re out prowling the mean streets of suburban Atlanta, Georgia looking for donuts. Around my house, Saturday mornings are for donuts.
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