I have to admit, this Cronut thing drove me batshit.

For those who don’t know, the Cronut™ is the latest foodie craze sweeping the nation. Specifically New York, but as we *are* the center of the known universe, that equates to the same thing.  And people all over the world are going crazy, making Cronut™ KIRFs on an unprecedented scale. For the Cronut™, that is.

A Cronut™ is a hybrid between a croissant and a doughnut.  They are made in limited supplies, and by limited I mean (as of this writing) 300 per day. Period.  Once they’re sold out for the day, it sucks to be you. Cuz they sell out by, like, 9am.

They are the creation of one Dominque Ansel, and are probably more a product of a carefully crafted marketing machine than any actual *need* for these pastries.

What has happened is that, because of their limited availability, people in the food world (and those just hovering on the edges, in orbit, wishing they could actual live on the planet Gourmand) have flocked to this place in search of the newly anointed pastry.  And found themselves unable to obtain one, because they have been SOLD OUT.


You laugh, but nothing will make a hipster want a thing more than saying he can’t have one.  Lines began to form, lines that would make the Native American exodus along the Trail of Tears seem little more than a queue for a movie theater bathroom.

No, really; having heard about this for so long (2 months) and having seen friends fail to obtain one, I went on a Quest for the Holy Cronut™ myself.

I awoke one morning at 4am, only to arrive at the SoHo bakery at 5:40am…and end up 12th on line.  By 6:30am the line was formed down the block behind me and around the corner.  And the bakery was yet to open for another hour and a half.

Despite financial offers by those further back on the line (and those not on the line at all; you know who you are, lady-with-the-crackhead-twitch) to part with either my space  on line or one of the TWO pastries I was allowed to purchase, I eventually got my hands on an actual Cronut™, mofos.  And you can see it/read about the experience here: http://instagram.com/p/bqrautvwx0/

But the specific point of this post is that while waiting in line for it, the woman ahead of me – a very cute reporter for  the Epoch Times, an indy paper here in NYC – happened to be the lucky and random recipient of a sampling of Dominque Ansel’s latest creation fresh off the…freezer, so to speak: a Frozen S’more.  To hear her describe it, well…it’s enough to say it was definitely Foodgasm-worthy:  http://t.co/7RQXOqdrtv

And lucky me, I got to be her impromptu photographer for it. That pic was mine, MINE, my precioussss!

Which means nothing, really, except my claim to non-fame continues unabated.


Note: btw, my use of the ™ is both tongue-in-cheek and totally appropriate. That bastard Ansel trademarked the Cronut™ name to insure no one else would be able to legally use it in copying him, and he did this BEFORE the damn thing hit the market. So yeah, I’m sure the phenomenon was *completely* unexpected…!