Klondike Donuts



March 1st, 2020. I stop at Kroger on my way home to pick up some dinner ingredients. I make a pass by the ice cream treats aisle to see if my newest donut desire has been stocked: the Klondike Donut. Indeed, it has. I pick up a package of the Boston Cream-laced confection and leave the store, forgetting the rest of my shopping list. Halfway out of the parking lot I find myself turning around to re-enter the store. Worth it?

That night I feed Breadhole Jr. is dinner: a banana, some blueberries, a vegetable puree. Afterwards we share a Klondike Donut. He eats a single bite and begins to scream with euphoric elation. Being a good parent, I limit him to one bite, which seems in hindsight a cruel and unnecessary move. He only stops screaming when I throw some cheerios on his tray and walk behind his high chair to finish the rest. Worth it?

Ultimately the Klondike Donut is simply a Klondike Bar with less Klondike. The ice cream bar is still square-shaped, but simply sans a thumb-sized hole right in the center. The icing adds some aesthetic to the top, but not enough to significantly impact the flavor. Flavors? Boston Cream is just a vanilla Klondike with a vaguely sweet off-yellow cream laced through it. I later try the Strawberry flavor, which was no different than a normal Strawberry Klondike. There are no Triple Chocolate variants at any stores near me.

I am not disappointed, as I expected little. Klondike Bars are fundamentally lame ice cream. What would I do for a Klondike bar? Pay .99c in a pinch, I guess. Back in the day I would eat dozens of full-sized ice cream bars at boy scout camp because I was a fat little fuck. To this day I remain a fan of ice cream with a layer of thin, hard chocolate encasing it. I am an easy target.  I will always be an easy target. Are these donuts, truly? All things be donuts of our mind be so.

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