“Your weekend plans just got a little sweeter,” the announcement promised. “This Sunday, March 11 during brunch, Americano is serving up bottomless Nutella doughnuts. Pay once for an endless supply…”
At the restaurant nestled in the Joule downtown, the house-made doughnut puffs, bronzed and dusted with sugar, will hold molten centers of Nutella. You’ll be born away on waves of hazelnut-chocolate bliss.
I know this feeling well. A friend of mine hosts pizza Sundays most of the fall and winter, and at the end of each soiree, the last pizza, the final hurrah, is a plain round of his treasured dough, puffed in the oven and covered with Nutella. And when the last fudgy slice is gone, spoons come out for furtive indulgences, stolen mouthfuls. The only sad friend is the one who gave up Nutella for Lent.