The donut that smiles back in Barcelona

There are donuts, and then there is Boldúman. One wears sprinkles like confetti or a glaze sticky as the night and waits under hard light at an airport coffee counter. The other has eyes. And a chocolate smirk. And a soul. Or at least, you think he does—until you eat him.

I called Barcelona home for a spell, and I feel the draw to cap this visit by seeing an old doughy friend. I stand outside Boldú’s flagship shop in Eixample to take it all in. One window houses all manner of ads for what they’re trying to push.