Up early on Saturday with a throbbing headache (okay, maybe I had a lot of fun the night before), I went out for a comforting meal to nurse my woe. Amazing what the wonder combination of coffee, eggs and potatoes can do in easing your pain.

After my hangover headache treatment, I walked around SoHo, marveling in the peace of the neighborhood at that time of morning.  Normally, it’s trampled by masses of tourists who cram the narrow streets like it’s a perpetual suburban mall on a holiday afternoon. On this morning, the cool air and the calm energy hummed on low, so I went for a stroll.

My walk led me toward the new downtown location of Ladurée, whose beautiful macarons I’ve written about before, but my inner GPS kicked in and redirected me towards the Dominique Ansel Bakery, home of the foodie cult favorite, the Cronut. For those of you that don’t know, a Cronut is a cross between a croissant and a doughnut, fried then filled with a flavored cream and glazed on top.  They’ve reached near legendary status here in New York.

Unless you are willing to line up at 6am, chances are you won’t be able to buy one.

Somehow this was a lucky day.  I walked in and saw someone eating one.  Not sure if they still had any left, I took my place on the relatively short line…and scored the flavor of the month.  I bought two of the Raspberry Lychee Cronut goodness.

On the Cronut Line

Now, having been gluten free for almost 8 months, you’d think I wouldn’t care about such a thing.  But I’d promised myself if I ever got my hands on one of these, I would try it.  Because, YOLO, y’all.  (Please note that if you have gluten issues, you probably shouldn’t follow my delinquent behavior.  I was willing to suffer for pastry.)

Immediately I texted my father, who has long been my food partner in crime.

“I got us CRONUTS!!! Should I swing by?”

“You should be on your way right now,” came his reply.

We opened the box.  And then we stared at them.

Raspberry Lychee Cronuts

Because they are hard to come by, we were uncharacteristically hesitant to devour them.  I timidly dug into one, cutting it in half and saving one piece for my mom. (I’m generous like that.)  The inside is a thing of beauty, all airily layered and creamy and oozing with raspberry jam.

Inner Cronut

Biting into it was a festival of senses: the crunch of the dough tingling with sandy sugar crystals gave way to a creamy lychee filling—which was reminiscent of a bright lemon flavor—and married with the sweet tartness of the raspberry jam.  I loved it.

My dad took his time with his, reflecting on the flavors of each bite.  In between the munching, we caught up on the week just past, chatting and laughing with coffee and Cronuts, our feet on the coffee table.  These really are the treasured moments of life.

The Cronut was just a catalyst to be able to steal some time to hang out together. This is the essence of goodness.

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