If I were to brainstorm the myriad amount of ways in which an autumnal delicacy like pumpkin pie could be improved upon, I’m fairly certain deep-frying it would be at the top of the list.

Luckily, Dunkin’ Donuts is saving me from the prospect of attempting such an endeavor in the privacy, but not-completely-covered-by-insurance confines, of my own kitchen by introducing a new Pumpkin Pie Donut as part of their seasonal fall menu. Unlike the classic pumpkin cake donuts, which every grocery store in America features this time of year, the new Pumpkin Pie Donut features a “pumpkin pie flavored, buttercreme-filled yeast shell” that’s topped with white icing and graham cracker crumbles. And because it’s a donut, it is of course caressed by the loving embrace of hot fryer oil.

I tend to appreciate the aesthetic beauty of Dunkin’ Donuts products, although I’ve often found their donuts to be on the small side. This donut is no exception, although I suppose my arteries would appreciate not being subjected to an actual fried pumpkin pie, and instead getting off for a more “modest” 380 calorie donut. In any event, an initial bite of the edges of the donut leaves a lot to be desired; namely in the whole pumpkin pie department.

Perhaps my donut had the unfortunate luck of sitting around in the store for too long, or perhaps I tend to hold my yeast-raised donuts to higher than mass-produced standards, but the plain shell lacked the airy spring of a really good yeast donut, and tasted only of that characteristic dough and nutmeg aftertaste that’s present in most of Dunkin’s donuts.

But who are we kidding? Obviously there’s no reason just to nibble around the yeast shell, no more so than there’s reason to just nibble on the crust of an actual pumpkin pie. We bite into donuts and pies, and what’s the first thing most of us chomp through when it comes to actual pumpkin pie? The whipped cream, of course.

Dunkin’s white icing might share a similar color with the traditional and sweet accouterment to pie, but that’s about all they share. Cloyingly sweet and unnaturally hardened, the icing might work on a sugar cookie, but here the glycerol flavor overpowers and clashes with the doughy interior and buttercreme filling. The graham cracker crumbs were thankfully crunchy and plentiful, but they lacked a distinct cinnamon flavor and instead tasted too much like a boring old frozen pie crust.

The only authentic pumpkin flavor comes from the buttercreme filling. While it’s filled with plenty of questionable ingredients that might not make their way into a traditional buttercream (nothing says homemade like Yellow 5 and Guar Gum!), the faux buttercreme has a delightful pumpkin flavor complete with all those sweet warming spices like cinnamon and ginger. The only problem is that the texture, which dissolves on the tongue like the way Cool Whip would do, is unfulfilling. Speaking of filling or lack thereof, my completely trigonometric challenged eyes estimated the creme only took up about a third of the volume within the shell. That’s like a pie that’s two-thirds crust and only a third filling!

Dunkin’ Donuts had a real opportunity to add to their pumpkin-flavored product line with this donut, but they screwed it up. Maybe they didn’t screw it up as bad as me trying to create a fried pumpkin pie by dropping a frozen Marie Callender’s pie into a Dutch oven of boiling shortening, but definitely to the point of making a donut not worth buying again.

(Nutrition Facts – 380 calories, 180 calories from fat, 20 grams of fat, 9 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat*, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 380 milligrams of sodium, 0 milligrams of potassium, 46 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 24 grams of sugars, and 4 grams of protein.)

*Made with partially hydrogenated oil.

Item: Dunkin’ Donuts Pumpkin Pie Donut
Purchased Price: $1.00
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Dunkin’ Donuts
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Aesthetically pleasing. Authentic pumpkin flavor in the “buttercreme.” Only a dollar. Not having to attempt to fry a frozen pumpkin pie and burn my home down.
Cons: Cloying white icing that tastes like some chemical I can’t pronounce. Dense and tasteless shell. Graham cracker crumbles lack cinnamon flavor. Poor interior coverage of buttercreme filling. Attempting to apply mathematical concepts to donut fillings.

Throughout the course of human history, it becomes necessary, at certain times when the illusion of progress has been reached, to stretch culinary creativity even further.

Especially in fast food lest we become too far accustomed to dry hamburger patties on stale sesame seed buns or rubbery egg byproducts adorned with nothing more than cold, unmelted processed “cheese.”

In 2009, it was the Double Down. More recently, it was the fusing of chip and taco for Taco Bell’s Doritos Locos Tacos. Shocking, innovative, delicious, and perhaps even life threatening in copious amounts? No doubt. But completely freaking worth it.

But has such innovation been available before 10:30 AM?

No.

So with an eye towards pushing the envelope of acceptable gluttony at the breakfast table even beyond the realms of Fruity Pebbles consumed with half-and-half while sitting naked in front of reruns of Looney Tunes*, Dunkin’ Donuts has unveiled the Glazed Donut Breakfast Sandwich.

To be honest, I wasn’t surprised when I heard about it. Don’t get me wrong, I was excited to try the sandwich, but not in the OMG shock-and-awe kind of excitement that resonates in middle school text message conversations. Personally, I’ve been eating salty and meaty things on donuts for years.

What with the proximity of Burger King and Krispy Kreme in Salt Lake City Airport’s Terminal B, it was inevitable during my money-strapped and homesick college days that those two worlds would collide in a surprisingly tasty combination. And given the burgeoning popularity of any number of Luther Burger designs, I know I’m not the only one who has been waiting for the mainstream acceptance of using a donut as a bun.

Boasting a pepper-fried egg and cherrywood-smoked bacon, the sandwich comes out just like any of Dunkin’s other toasted sandwiches — an employee zaps the egg and bacon in a microwave/toaster oven/silver box I presume cooks (or at the very least warms) the food, and then the contents are assembled on the bread of choice. I didn’t ask if I could get the sandwich with another type of donut, but the Original Glazed is a no brainer.

However, Dunkin’s Glazed Donut has its flaws. Namely, it’s a bit on the petite side, and doesn’t have the kind of homemade rise that really, really good donuts have. But it’s still light and airy with that sweetly rich taste of fried dough that makes eating a donut much more pleasant than eating…Well, celery or some crap like that.

I especially liked how the flavors of the fried egg and bacon, oozing their own buttery and pork fat juices, respectively, seeped inside of the donut. It’s like someone decided to put sweet cream butter on a donut. Why has no one thought to do that before?

Anyways, the glaze, while slightly chipped in places and not boasting 100 percent topside coverage, had been warmed in the radiant heat of the wrapper, resurrecting it to a fresh baked, slightly gooey, and stick-to-your-fingers texture that will leave you licking your lips hours after finishing.

As for the pepper fried egg and cherrywood bacon, both were good, but not that good. The egg had a decent flavor with some saltiness and butteriness. It didn’t, however, have a crisp fried egg texture. And the only thing the black pepper specks added to the party was a hint of disjointedness with the donut’s sweetness.

The bacon was good, but limp. They were the standard fast food precooked strips that (ironically) many fast food restaurants are moving away from these days. Lacking crunch or a pronounced smoke flavor, I didn’t pick up on the cherrywood and missed what could have been a real textural contrast with the donut. Worse yet, I even managed to pick up a slightly burnt taste on the edges of one the stripes.

However, despite the bacon’s faults and it being cliché to say sandwiches scream for more bacon when all other attempts at improvement fail, this donut sandwich needs more damn bacon!

I also have to admit the sandwich is already a bit awkward to eat given its construction. Wrapped tightly in paper, the donut itself is compressed and somewhat steamed by the warm contents of the egg and bacon. That combination causes the donut’s underside to break down like a helpless burger bun battling against too much fat and moisture from a seeping patty.

Thusly, attempting to pick it up and eat it like an actual sandwich is a recipe for getting donut goo on yourself. I don’t mind so much because I think donut goo could make an attractive moisturizer or cologne.

Dunkin’ Donut’s new Glazed Donut Breakfast Sandwich is innovative, but messy. It’s good, but not great. It’s well thought out, but not executed well. In short, it’s not all that it could be, and not all that fast food junkies demand it should be. Still, for those spurred on by a bit of impulse and a hankering to try something new for their morning (or afternoon) routine, it’s an enjoyable bite of sweet and salty.

*Hypothetically speaking, of course.

(Nutrition Facts – 360 calories, 180 calories from fat, 20 grams of fat, 13 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 60 milligrams of cholesterol, 720 milligrams of sodium, 32 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 13 grams of sugar, and 13 grams of protein.)

Other Dunkin’ Donuts Glazed Donut Breakfast Sandwich reviews:
Grub Grade
Junk Food Guy

Item: Dunkin’ Donuts Glazed Donut Breakfast Sandwich
Purchased Price: $3.39
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Dunkin’ Donuts
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Another affirmation of team sweet ‘n salty in the fast food world. Glazed donut gets resurrected in an gooey way. Egg patty has surprisingly good flavor. Tastes like a buttered glazed donut. Less calories than Dunkin’s “healthy” Turkey Sausage Sandwich.
Cons: Doesn’t go big or bold enough. Bacon lacks crunch or cherry smoke flavor. Pepper fried egg is not actually fried in butter, but instead infused with “Natural Sautéed Flavor.” Messy. Awkward to eat. Doesn’t feel quite worth its price tag.

Well, it’s about time!

How refreshing to find somebody taking a stab at an Irish creme-flavored somethin’-or-other for St. Patty’s Day. Green food coloring? Snooze. Artificial mint extract? Been there, clogged that artery.

But whiskey, creme, and cocoa, all wrapped up in a pillow of cakey dough? Now that’s a breakfast of bold hooligans. Bold hooligans like you and me, so, with the blood of my Irish ancestors pulsing through my wee little veins, I dodged my regular glazed cake and nabbed this fella.

Yes, indeedy, that is my vessel of morning justice. Oval-esque and a bit wonky, it reminds me of Gilly, the pet rock I had as a child. Fortunately, unlike a pet rock, this is edible, coated in sugar, and won’t get lost in a tragic river rafting accident.

Now, to dive in…

The cake, which was fresh from the fryer, is puffy enough, if a little dry and tasteless, but I’m accustomed to that in a Dunkin’ do[ugh]nut. Now, to counteract that, there resides plenty of this beige, Irish-creme-like palm oil goo, which fills about 1/3 of the cake’s interior, but, like the mutagen that created the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, this goo can be used for creation…or destruction.

They say love blinds a person. If that’s true, someone loves sweetness in the Dunkin’ Donuts testing facilities because, holy bag of potatoes, Batman, the creme’s definitely sweet, which is a good thing in that it adds some sense of flavor, but I fear it also might make my great grandmother rise from her Irish grave and knock me right in the cake-hole fer consumin’ a product that defies all them laws of what Irish creme should be!

“But grandma!” I’d say, “This particular interpretation of Irish creme focuses on the beverage’s sharp condensed milk flavor!” She would then argue that there’s very little dimension to counteract that flavor, like cocoa or espresso or whiskey. On this, she would be right: where’s the whiskey? I demand whiskey in my palm oil!

However, if I put my expectations of Irish creme authenticity aside, the filling tastes okay. Like vanilla pudding and Cool Whip mixed with a hint of coffee medicine from some sort of Kahlúa flavoring. It wants to be bitter, but just can’t help but stick to its sugary ways. A little dip in the chocolate frosting might’ve added some contrast to help this guy stand up to its fellow pudgy rounds.

I really wanted to find myself scrounging for crumbs here, but, no matter how hard I try, I just can’t finish the whole thing. Alas, this one has fallen victim to one-dimension-ness.

“Et tu, Brute?”

(A little ode to the Ides of March there)

Oh, if only it were simple to create a mass-marketed success. Innovators cast the dice, but they can never be absolutely sure about how a product will fall, and this one fell off its rocker somewhere. Is it terrible? Nope. Will I buy it again? Ehhh… I’d rather have a Girl Scout cookie.

However, while not great, I would be sad if the Irish Creme offering left forever to be replaced by some Smo-Joe green-glazed doughnut. It gets props for innovation, and, at the same time, it could use some help in the flavor department. Don’t give up on it, important people at Dunkin’. With a quick dip in a vat of glaze or a reformulation of the filling, this doughnut has potential.

(Nutrition Facts – 260 calories, 135 calories from fat, 15 grams of fat, 7 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 350 milligrams of sodium, 0 milligrams of potassium, 29 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 10 grams of sugars, and 3 grams of protein.)

Item: Dunkin’ Donuts Irish Creme Donut
Purchased Price: $1.00
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Dunkin’ Donuts
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Sweet. Pudding-like filling. Plenty of filling. Cake is puffy. Not nasty. Innovative. Irish ancestors. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Gilly, my pet rock.
Cons: Too sweet at times. Bland cake. Dry cake. Wimpy powdered sugar dust. Gets boring. Absence of whiskey. The fact that “not nasty” is in the pros. The Ides of March. Being haunted by my great grandmother.