As previously mentioned, Krispy Kreme has developed a new product that, if fully realized, would be comparable in importance to penicillin, the Bible, or the opposable thumb. We're talking about the drinkable donut, or as KK prefers to more innocuously call it, the "frozen blended beverage." We learned from the press release that the foundation flavor is "Frozen Original Kreme," which KK describes as "the signature flavor of our Original Glazed doughnut captured in a creamy frozen blend." There are also raspberry, latte, and double chocolate flavors, and coffee may be added for a further taste-splosion.
As a longtime Krispy Kreme enthusiast, I set off to determine if mankind was ready for this evolutionary leap forward. Arriving at KK with trusty Agent L (pictured above, undercover) as backup, I inquired of the dour KK kounter-man, prithee, what is the Frozen Blended Beverage made of? "It's a drink," he answered. Yes, that I got from the poster showing the product as a liquid in a cup, but what's in it? Milk? Is it like a milkshake thing? At this point, his jaw began working mechanically, and he called for his manager. Uh oh.
The manager came storming up to the counter, and when we asked her the same questions, she barked "It's a blended ... frozen beverage!" She was sticking to the company line, even though it should have been rendered "frozen blended beverage." But before she could call security, the counterman suddenly interjected, "We don’t know what it is. It's just powder. They just send it to us and we mix it with ice." I thought the manager was going to snap his head off for such impertinence.
But he was right! I ordered a Frozen Original Kreme, and this calmed the manager enough to retreat to her lair. Her minion busied himself with preparing the beverage, which indeed involved spooning a portion of gray powder from this canister into a pitcher.
Said pitcher was then inserted into a needlessly gigantic blender contraption while the counterman fetched an appropriate amount of ice (see where the "frozen blended" part comes in?). The counterman asked if I wanted whipped cream on top. Of course! Too bad though, because they were out of whipped cream. Oh well. Give it to me straight up, barkeep.
And here you have it: the simple, unrefined Frozen Original Kreme in all its glory. Enticing, no? Could this be the final, perfect union between cool refreshing beverage and satisfying donutty goodness? Might it be true that man will no longer need solid food? Would it be possible to just freebase that donut powder for a direct connection between cosmic donut essence and the human soul? I donned the holy headcovering and prepared to taste the divine.
Extremely sensitive equipment was used to capture the above photographic sequence. Approximately one picosecond separates my first ingestion of Frozen Original Kreme from the expression of extreme disgust and revulsion shown here. It was one of the most unpleasant gustatory experiences I've endured, and this from a man who ate nine chocolate iced kreme filled at one sitting. Imagine a cup of powdered non-dairy creamer forcibly united with a flavorless slushee, and you pretty much have the idea. In the name of science, I took four sips, and that was enough to put me off my feed well past lunch. Agent L took one sip and fled to Queens in tears.
I can only assign blame for this abomination to a villain that already has much to answer for: Atkins. That devil's diet has driven the flock away from righteousness and besotted the minds of KK executives into unleashing any defense, even one as distasteful as the Frozen Original Kreme. One can only hope the powers that be will consign this ill-considered concept to the wastebin as quickly as I discarded my one and only sampling of same. Let the Atkinsians have their low-carb bread made from sawdust and shredded newspapers. Let us not besmirch the temple of Kreme with this liquid idolatry.