Provisionary
Whether you've heard of him or not, Isreal, an effortlessly hip 40-year-old whose signature bandana is the millennial version of the "Time to make the doughnuts"-guy's salt-and-pepper moustache, has been anointed the cult king of gourmet doughnuts. His Lower East Side shop, Doughnut Plant, has and continues to receive the kind of media accolades a food entrepreneur can only dream of. Hailed by Martha Stewart, named one of the country's top six doughnuts by the very serious food magazine Saveur, singled out by the New York Times, Gourmet magazine and everyone else that matters, the Doughnut Plant's reputation seems set for life.
On the day of my visit, Isreal is intent on chatting with his customers. "I love your hair!" he tells one regular, a 30-something woman with a blunt cut. "It's very Chicago. It's very Catherine Zeta-Jones." He turns to her husband, whom he has just treated to his latest flavor, the fresh grapefruit doughnut. "Did you try my pomegranate? It was sooo funky."
For those of you who have not experienced a Doughnut Plant doughnut, you will find nary a sprinkle in sight. The deep-fried orbs are made from all-organic ingredients with flavors improvised based on what's in season. The day of my visit, grapefruit, banana pecan, rose petal and granulated sugar-covered doughnuts were on offer, in addition to vanilla bean and Valrhona chocolate mainstays. The taste is one thing?subtle, fresh, light?but the texture puts them over the top. Bite into a Doughnut Plant doughnut (about as large as your open hand), and, unlike its inferior counterparts that buckle, permanently pinched, from the pressure of your teeth, the Doughnut Plant doughnut bounces back, revealing a complex network of yeasty fibers and bubbles.
"Oh," Isreal exclaims with genuine surprise. "I'm on tv! Wanna watch it?"
He beckons us deeper into the bakery, and turns on a television tuned to the Travel Channel's Epicurious, hosted by Michael Lomonaco.
"Here on Grand Street," the host begins, "Mark Isreal has a goal?to make the best doughnuts possible."
I glance from the television to Isreal. Watching him make doughnuts on television while I stand beside him in the place where he actually makes doughnuts should feel weird, but it doesn't. The photos that hang in the front of the shop?Isreal smiling with Emeril Lagasse, Isreal posing for glossy magazines?have prepared me.
"You can tell a good doughnut by its white walls," Isreal, in his do-rag, tells the camera, running his finger around the rise of pale dough that circles the doughnut. "We have big white walls."
For someone who says that he dreads giving interviews, only doing press to make up for his lack of formal advertising and publicity, Isreal is incredibly telegenic. I ask him why, after four years at his Grand St. location and 10 years total making these doughnuts, he is still the focus of relentless media attention.
"People keep rediscovering my doughnuts, because the quality keeps getting better and better," he says, matter of fact. "I'm the owner, I'm also the manager, I'm quality control, and I still make the doughnuts."
[gabi@nypress.com](mailto:gabi@nypress.com)