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A final note
Oh, my gosh, how could I forget the doughnuts? There are plenty of reasons to make a habit out of the Lynn’s breakfast — the exquisite omelets, for starters — but if nothing else, there are the doughnuts. Let the fry babies among us extend our collective gratitude to Ireland for channeling his doughnut-obsessed teenage years into a level of craftsmanship that may be second to none in the Twin Cities.
Forget the gimmicks that are currently sweeping the genre, and revel in unadulterated, time-tested cake doughnut goodness. Picture this: a golden interior with a dense, moist crumb, enrobed by a gently crisp, never-greasy crust that twinkles with sugar, some of it caramelized into the acorn-brown surface. Such is the alchemy of apple cider, buttermilk (and flour, sugar, baking powder and soy oil) and skill.
Self-preservation is encouraging me to stop because, like so much about the Lynn, just thinking about those doughnuts is making me hungry.
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