Krispy Kreme Leaves a Donut-Hole in Its Wake—Just five years after opening its doors in Albuquerque, the last of the city's two coveted Krispy Kreme shops failed to open Thursday morning. And every morning since. Susan Stiger wrote a rather poetic front-page eulogy in the Albuquerque Journal Saturday, stating that the company that owns the Albuquerque stores—as well as eight others in Arizona—has made a claim for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. In other words, the franchisers are out of business, not the Krispy Kreme corporation itself. It's still possible for another shop or two to take their place. But with slipping sales, stadium-sized pools of excess American blubber and more explicit health issuances from the government, the question is whether anyone will be willing to try again. Is there room for donuts in the 21st-century? Or are we in the midst of another health craze like we saw in the ’20s, when heritage recipes began to disappear and processed, faux-health food took their place? (In Candyfreak, Steve Almond mentions two chocolate-covered candy bars of the day made with dehydrated vegetable matter. One was called Vegetable Sandwich.) Your mouth is a minefield. Choose carefully what goes in it.
On the edge of Yellowstone National Park, Montana’s first buffalo hunt in 15 years is underway. For each licensed buffalo hunter there is a herd of observers. Hunting with an entourage only works if the prey doesn’t run away.
French food is misunderstood. In fact, it’s one of the most misunderstood styles of food here in the States. (Probably because many of us have grown up on the Bugs Bunny cartoons where the slinky, mustachioed waiter screams “oui, oui!!” every couple of seconds.) French cuisine is generally perceived as being too exclusive, with impossible-to-navigate menus and single meals that will cost you a firstborn child. How did we get here? Can we keep it real with French food?