We once crossed an ocean for dinner to visit El Bulli in Spain. Another time we crossed the same ocean for dinner at the three Michelin star Le Calandre in northern Italy. Last night, stuck on the Washington beltway we exited at an off ramp and found ourselves staring at a Krispy Kreme. A Krispy Kreme whose "Hot" neon light was on, a Krispy Kreme that had a special on a dozen honey dipped "hot" donuts. Thirteen for the price of twelve. And, we were hungry.
Curiously, on a similar evening a year ago, we were stuck on another highway, this time in Southern California and again exited to find ourselves at an In-n-Out Burger. As yesterday we forgave dinner to celebrate with several Double Doubles and fries Animal style. No, we didn't have Caymus Special Select nor Dal Forno nor Chateaux Margaux. Rather we had a "Neopolitan shake." I'd even asked for extra cheese and extra grilled onions and "spread" to dredge my french fries through in the cardboard container.
Last night we ate all thirteen hot Krispy Kremes. At one sitting. A year ago we ate every fry, every onion, every driblet of "spread" from the Double Doubles. We slurped the shakes as best we could.
While sitting in our car on the side of the highway in Alexandria, Virginia last night we reached a decision. Having crossed oceans, having built vacations around a particularly exquisite meal, having built a house around a wine cellar, in truth, the greatest, most satisfyingly delicious dinner of all would be where we could find a Krispy Kreme across the street from an In-n-Out Burger.
We will move there.
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