The name comes from the 1930s French flick A Baker's Wife, which tells the tale of a baker who loses the ability to work after his beautiful wife flies their sugary coop. But there is nothing tragic about this inconspicuous south Minneapolis bakery, which bears colorful knickknacks, kitschy phrases on wooden plaques, and doughnuts that leave you foaming glaze at the mouth. Crisp on the outside, these old-fashioned, almost-mini-doughnuts drown out every rational thought at first bite, replacing words with the carnal impulse for more. And more. Not too cake-y and not too sweet, all of the simple choices (cinnamon-sugar and plain for 49 cents, chocolate or chocolate with sprinkles for 52), are fluffy, moist, and exceedingly fresh. When the bright and cozy shop opened 11 years ago, it didn't offer doughnuts, opting for more upscale choices like lemon bars and individual-sized pecan pies, which still shine from behind the glass display case. But A Baker's Wife quickly conceded the popularity of the pastry family's simpler, more humble sister. It's a good thing they did. More than reasonably priced, these doughnuts—and the cup of doughnut holes for $1.39—fly quickly off the shelves and even faster through patrons' lips.