VOODOO DOUGHNUTS

It seems that every city has a signature box that is recognized world-wide.

New York has a blue box with elegant black lettering. Paris has an orange box with a handsome chocolate font.

Can you guess which box has become synonymous with Portland? Does this fritter as big as a face give you a clue?

The hot pink box with crazy black writing doesn’t hold a candle to the panache of Tiffany & Co. or the prestige of Hermes (after all, the “the magic is in the hole” tag line does sound like something out of a cheesy 70’s movie), but good or bad, Voodoo Doughnut has made its indelible mark on the imaginations of visitors, kids, and late night denizens alike.

Don’t believe me? If you are from out of town, chances are you’re already heard of it from the profusion of press already bestowed upon Voodoo Doughnut. (You’d think that the bakers had created the Cronut for all the breathy excitement generated by the sight of the pink box.)

Do you live here already? Take notice of how long it takes friends and family to request a drop-in.

Yesterday at the airport, within ten minutes I counted five people walking by with one of these boxes, clutching it like it was the most valuable thing they owned; this was all the more striking because the airport was relatively quiet and these doughnuts aren’t even sold there.

Are they the best doughnuts? Few could reasonably assert this to be true with so much stiff competition in town (Blue Star, Annie’s, Pip’s Original, Coco Donuts, the list goes on and on) but Voodoo does boast the weirdest, most over-the-top, quick-to-thrill, eye-popping wonders and like it or not, Voodoo is now part of the Portland culture. For now and apparently ever more.

Case in point: on a recent visit here with four ravenous teenagers, I spied a treasure hunt clue at the East side VD entrance. This town is mad for games and urban adventures, and I love that someone incorporated a branch of Voodoo into the game and that no one had messed with the hint — it just was sitting there awaiting attention. Apparently treasure hunts are sacred here.

Voodoo Doughnut is such an institution that pal Elona’s Ohio-living parents, Larry and Sheila, chose VD as the place to celebrate their anniversary and restate their vows after 45 years of marriage. They had a private party here, and it was a riot. (Apparently nothing says celebrating the longevity of a legally recognized romantic relationship like closing down a doughnut shop filled with coffins and animal skulls.)

Doesn’t Sheila absolutely rock the veil from her original ceremony and the peignoir she wore on her honeymoon? (No wonder Larry walks around with a smile all the time — almost fifty years later, his bride is still a babe. The fact that she also has an incredible sense of fun is like, well, the multi-hued icing on the platter-sized apple fritter.)

Me, I’m not doughnut crazy (only a simple chocolate buttermilk or glazed has the power to tempt), but it seems I am alone in my take-it-or-leave it attitude towards donuts in general. I do have to say, however, that Voodoo never fails to wow.  I have hosted birthday parties with giant trays of these doughnuts replacing the traditional cake or cupcakes, and I can tell you that nothing gives a mom more street cred in the under-10 crowd as three dozen of these marvels laced with everything from Captain Crunch, Butterfingers, Fruit Loops or Double Bubble gum. Take a dozen of these to your next block party or al fresco picnic and just watch what happens.

Add if you have added a couple of their signature concoctions into the mix (like the voodoo man complete with jelly guts), and you may be able to rest on your snack laurels for the rest of the year.

If you have never been to one of their outposts, perhaps you think I am exaggerating. Okay, then. Behold the Oreo Doughnut. Doesn’t it look like the end result of a focus group of hopped up 5 year olds?

What kind of evil genius drizzles icing on top of a doughnut that is already laden down with about a dozen crushed sandwich cookies?

Maybe the creator of the above is the same one who  came up with the idea of a breakfast treat with both maple icing and 2 strips of porky product. (Say hello to the Maple Bacon Bar.)

Let’s face it. Voodoo Doughnut is like our very own Graceland, a temple of excess, weirdness, and over-the-top consumption.

I like to think that if the King was alive today and visiting Portland, you’d find him here: playing pinball, buying rounds of doughnuts for the crowds, and drinking away his mama issues with booze smuggled in by bodyguards, all the while flirting with tatted Lolitas.

RIP Elvis. Go Voodoo.

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