Downtown CdA Food Truck Donut Burger

Last night, for the first time in moons, I was visited by the Divine and Holy Burger Angels of Bliss. Well, that might have possibly been a hallucination brought on by the tequila shots that were working their mystical magic on my mind and mouth, but still. Bartenders often get hungry and clued-in bar customers know this fact. They may arrive at the bar with cartons of delicious food stuffs in hopes of getting a maximally delicious drink, and as a bartender, I can honestly say: it usually works.

Another trick that certain bar patrons know is to wait until the day bartender is off his shift and then pour shots of tasty booze down his throat until you’re his BFF forever and ever. Several folks tested this idea out on me last night and I can honestly say: it also works.

Anyway, I had already been done with my shift for an hour or so and was getting just a skosh tipsy wipsy and extremely tummy-rumbly.  Suddenly, a figure emerged at me from out of the smoky darkness of the bar, carrying an armload of white Styrofoam to-go boxes.  It was one of my most beloved regulars. “Hungry? You’ll never guess what I found at this food truck down on Sherman.”

I cracked open one of the boxes, not totally sure what to expect, and there it was, something I’d only ever heard of as a gluttonous internet food meme, something I was terrified of and delighted by simultaneously at the same time, something enough to make Paula Deen’s boobs bounce excitedly at the possibility of adding new calories to their bodacious bounty. It gleamed in front of me, reflecting the colored lights of the dance floor like a golden, sugary disco ball.

Behold: the Glazed Donut Burger.

If you’re afraid to experiment with new or unusual foods, just make arrangements for getting neatly intoxicated first and your anxieties will drift away like stream off the hot grill. “Where on earth did you find these little babies?” was the first question that fell from my now-salivating lips. “I don’t think it has a name. It’s just a plain white truck in that little parking lot across from Crickets by the big buffalo.” Oh, you big buffalo you, it’s all your fault.  

Picking up the burger, it wasn’t as much of a heavy, sticky mess as I was expecting, and once I had my grubby mitt on it, I didn’t put it down at all, I just let it disappear deep into my mouth hole in fast fashion. Heck, I was starving and that poor little thing didn’t ever stand a chance at longevity, but I did pause briefly to make mental notes about the flavor combination and ultimate vibe of the wacky Donut Burger experience.

Basically, it was a lot like a really, really fantastic breakfast sandwich. Anyone who’s ever indulged in a McDonalds Sausage McGriddle sandwich will understand that the combo of a sweet “bun” with melty cheese and meat products is a conceptually odd but surprisingly winning flavor marriage. It's a maple love kind of feeling.

Similarities end there. The Food Truck Donut Burger is a thousand times more delicious than any kind of fast food garbage, and it would be appropriate to serve for breakfast, lunch, dinner, brunch, linner, funch, midnight snack, daylight snack, or last supper.

The glazed Krispy Kreme bun (I am pretty sure it was the real deal) was toothsome and sweet. The beef patty was grilled to a nice char on the outside but was meaty-rich and greasy-hot inside. Smoky crisp bacon strips and a slice of tangy cheddar finished out the cast of players in the Donut Burger Show, and no condiments were involved, obviously. Only a loon would ruin this perfect (and perfectly fattening) collision of sweet vs. umami flavors with ketchup.

Yes, folks it’s a good ‘un and I promise it’ll be worth the effort to seek and find this late night food truck with no name. Word on the street is that if it’s not set up in the parking lot next to Art Spirit where my pal stumbled across it last night, it can be found in it's origianl home at in the parking lot of Hogfish Bar on East Sherman. Trust me, o fearful and retiring ones, the Donut Burger is worth staying up past the end of Matlock and fighting the rowdy drunk young’uns for.

There’s a lesson here (aka a hint): bring your bartender (me) amazing late night street food and you will become his number one favorite customer – he will make your cocktails extra luscious and you’ll always get served first before the unbathed homelss nutballs and collagen-lipped, peroxided bimbettes that never tip.  As a very wise man (me) once said: a well-fed bartender is a happy bartender.