I’m not nearly as into pastries as I am into ridiculous lines. So I couldn’t turn down a chance to wait in line for a cronut. (If you’ve never heard of a cronut, see exhibit A.) Gin and I woke up at the crack of dawn for the cronut experience, and it did not disappoint.
I love waking up at 5am!
While in line, it took a while for my friend-making skills to warm up. (To be fair, the sun had yet to rise when we arrived.) But once we got talking, we met some quality folks.
My favorite person was the woman in front of us who repeatly joked, “Who are all these crazy people, willing to stand in line for hours?!” (This was her fourth time standing in line.) She told us about the different cronut rip-offs and their inferior quality. This same woman revealed that she is a supertaster, which was a new one on me. Thankfully Gin knew the ins and outs of supertasting, and their healthy discourse on supertasters led us to the topic of favorite hybrid fruits. I repeat, we discussed favorite hybrid fruits. They ravved about the mango nectarine (think mango in a deceptive nectarine form) and pluots (plum + apricots, obvy). Through this lengthy convo, all my hopes and dreams about the cronut line came to fruition.
Meanwhile, the bakery bouncer fended off the crazy people and kept the door clear.
The Bakery Bouncer
We finally made it inside the bakery at 9:45am and got in – wait for it – another line. There were lots of admirable things to notice, like this fan.
Check out this random girl coming dangerously close to cutting off her hand.
The cronut limit was two per person, though our lines buddies said it used to be six. There’s a different flavor every month (coconut!), and the bakery only makes around 300 every day. Sadly, no celebs pulled an Emma Roberts that day.
Someone told us about a Craigslist ad that read: “Half eaten cronut (cut with a knife) – $20.” People are making bank off cronuts. I shouldn’t have been surprised when a man walked up to me at 8:30 and offered $20 for a cronut. (I turned him down.) He then asked the couple behind me; the woman said sure, and the man overruled her. I eavesdropped on a 20 minute argument over cronuts that I fear may have been the demise of their relationship. To avoid getting disheartened, I diverted my attention to the cronut production.
Dominique Ansel in action.
Which led to asking the inventor of the cronut for a photo.
Then, after quite the wait, we got our hands on these bad boys.
The rest of the story is boring and involves us eating cronuts and frozen s’mores and other delicacies, which turns out, do not require standing in any line. In the end, I only ate half a cronut myself. With the remainder of my cronuts, I went around the city and force fed a tiny bite of cronut to every friend I encountered that day. Because that’s what friends are for.