And while even amateurs know that a good bakery is worth zip code-hopping for, there's not a damn thing wrong with the new satellite store in the IDS building, rendering workdays, visits to the lawyer, and all sundry other downtown business a bit less harried and edgy.
The heft of a Bogart's in one hand is an almost grounding experience. It's all gonna be A-OK.
We like the direct minimalism of the place — stationed right in the center of the foyer like the fat and sugar dealers that they are — just two folks, a half dozen varieties, plus coffee, milk, and water. And now that it's here, it feels like a virtual necessity; like how in the hell did business go on, all the hustle and bustle of everyday life without it? It feels like a downtown day without a donut would be like a workday without a paycheck attached to it. Bogus. We like Bogart's products because of their breadiness, their sturdy righteousness, their lack of over-sweetness. The hole-less donuts are about the size of a throw pillow, or a small loaf of bread or a baby's head or a softball. But it is more delicious than all of these things. A vanilla-bean buttercream-filled brioche is laced with a French-style (sugar syrup, beaten egg yolks and soft butter) filling so rich it's practically absurdist. But again, it's more about the richness than the sugar. We could almost see kids eschewing it. Which is fine by us. A brown butter glazed has almost a salty edge, and sprinkled with little bits of brown butter it offers appealing crunch. The regular raised glazed was our least favorite, so restrained it's almost austere. But hey, pick your own pleasure. A run to the bank has never been this tasty. Nicollet Mall, 80 S. Eighth St., Minneapolis 612-259-7700 bogartsdoughnutco.com