When Voodoo Beats ‘Rona

I smiled at the fence and whispered, Ah, Dorothy, we’re not in Portland…” 

Memories of this infamous shade of pink — and the tasty product it telegraphs here — drew DH and I to burst our bubble of coronavirus quarantine.

The lure? The newest location of Voodoo Doughnuts, now open in the Houston Heights. Eight weeks since we’ve driven into The City, our road trip felt like riding into a foreign land.  Odd sensations after 40 years living here.

We naively expected a near‐repeat of our first Voodoo experience.

Portland, Oregon. Late summer, 2018.

The natives swore that a Must‐Do was sampling Portland doughnuts. Not a normal food choice for either of us but DH and I share a hard travel rule: wherever, whatever, indulge as the locals do (within our reason, of course).

So, we walked two miles from our hotel to discover this Voodoo crowd: 

The never‐ending line outside Voodoo Doughnuts, Portland, OR (Image copyright, DSC_0242.jpg.)
Whatever you can doughnut, plus more.

I shrieked at their wall‐mounted menu, “Holy moly!” 

This shaded page shows only one section of a three‐paneled menu.

What were the doughnuts? How many and what kinds? 

I only remember what I ordered: Viscous Hibiscus, Blueberry Cake, Raspberry Romeo, Voodoo Doll, and School Daze PB&J. Good understates their divinity. 

The ensuing sugar rush hijacked my blogger’s eye and writer’s brain. Thus, I remain clueless to how many and/or what else was on the menu. 

The pink background of Oregon’s menu dominates the Houston store, too.

I smack on these bites of heaven but my eyes, rebel at all the Pepto‐Bismol pink. 

On second thought, maybe that’s the point?

It’s the branding color because, after you eat your box of doughnuts (who buys or eats only two or three Voodoos?) you need a bottle of tummy medicine! 

So why not sell it in your stores, Voodoo Doughnuts? I’ll take my commission later…

On second thought, I contradict myself with this close, begging your forgiveness, dear reader.

This post stinks like a commercial, I know. I promise the only green exchanged came from my pocket. And it was a lot: an average $2.80 per doughnut for our order. The second ouch! followed a week later with a high scale reading. Alas.

Why do we so often pay in both pennies and pounds?

Can’t we catch a break in these pandemic days?

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