Don’t give up on it, important people at Dunkin’. It gets props for innovation, and, at the same time, it could use some help in the flavor department. 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. Will I buy it again? Ehhh… I’d rather have a Girl Scout cookie. 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. Oh, if only it were simple to create a mass-marketed success. (A little ode to the Ides of March there) Alas, this one has fallen victim to one-dimension-ness. 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. A little dip in the chocolate frosting might’ve added some contrast to help this guy stand up to its fellow pudgy rounds. It wants to be bitter, but just can’t help but stick to its sugary ways. Like vanilla pudding and Cool Whip mixed with a hint of coffee medicine from some sort of Kahlúa flavoring. However, if I put my expectations of Irish creme authenticity aside, the filling tastes okay. On this, she would be right: where’s the whiskey? I demand whiskey in my palm oil! “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. 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! 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.
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’ donut. Fortunately, unlike a pet rock, this is edible, coated in sugar, and won’t get lost in a tragic river rafting accident.
Oval-esque and a bit wonky, it reminds me of Gilly, the pet rock I had as a child. Yes, indeedy, that is my vessel of morning justice. 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. Artificial mint extract? Been there, clogged that artery.īut whiskey, creme, and cocoa, all wrapped up in a pillow of cakey dough? Now that’s a breakfast of bold hooligans. How refreshing to find somebody taking a stab at an Irish creme-flavored somethin’-or-other for St.
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