Life can be a series of ups and downs, like a balance of the universe: the good and the bad, the complex and the simple, the delicious and the, well, not so delicious.
And so it was, just an hour or so after tasting one of the very best doughnuts I had ever eaten, I had one of the worst.
I’m really hesitant to give this place a bad review because I think it was simply a case of unlucky timing on my part. Because I’m sure the doughnuts wouldn’t always be so bad, and the rest of the stuff they had looked good.
On our trip to New Zealand’s North Island, my wife and I stopped at Mangawhai Heads to stretch our legs, and I noticed a shop called Dizzy Lizzy’s Milk Bar. They sold doughnuts that they cook while you wait. They are little cinnamon doughnuts where 10 fill a small bag.
The young girl who made them probably hadn’t made too many before. She had trouble with the machine. She had trouble with the shape. She had trouble with everything. The boss should have come out and rescued her.
Fortunately I didn’t invest too much of my hard-earned dollars into them, because I had three then threw the rest away. They weren’t cooked properly and were too oily.
Life’s too short to make it even shorter.