I spent my childhood in Carolina Beach, North Carolina, where every summer everyone looked forward to donuts from Britt’s, a small shop in the small boardwalk area that served what I’ve always suspected are the best donuts on the planet.

A number of years ago I took a girlfriend there and she said she’d get only one donut despite my assuring her that she’d want more. After eating that one she did eat another. Finally we left, and I bought an additional dozen to take with us. We walked on the beach for a bit and she asked me for the bag of donuts. After a couple of minutes I asked for them back, and when I reached inside, the bag was empty. We returned to Britt’s for another bag of donuts, and she got at least one more. As I recall, her total intake that visit was at least 15 donuts, a fact I mentioned to the proprietor (to my girlfriend’s annoyance).

About a week later my brother Mark phoned to say he’d been to Britt’s and the owner had told him, “Your brother was in here last week and he brought a girl who ate about 15 donuts.”

I say all this by way of introduction to a nice little article about Britt’s in Oxford American, published on their website yesterday.

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