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David Mitchell Sep 22, 2014 The author of Cloud Atlas and Book Catapult creator Seth Marko will discuss Mitchell's new novel, The Bone Clocks, about a fifteen-year-old psychic girl trying to solve multiple mysterious phenomena. Ticket price include a copy of the novel. 48 other events on Monday, September 22
 
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Home / Articles / Eats / Grubby Bitch /  Rose ...
. . . .
Tuesday, Aug 30, 2011

Rose Donuts offers the hangover breakfast of champions

Cheap sandwiches, donuts and ice cream make for the perfect post-party meal

By Amy T. Granite
8-31 grubby pic
- Photo by Amy T. Granite
After a raucous night of partying, this grubby Cinderella’s head felt like a smashed pumpkin carriage on the side of Interstate 8. I needed hangover help fast and couldn’t decide on pork products, ice cream or donuts, so I turned to the only place that I knew served all three.

Rose Donuts (5201 Linda Vista Road in Linda Vista) is something of legend among USD students, stoners, drunkards and binge-eaters alike. Open 24-7 with a menu full of cheap sandwiches, donuts and 12 flavors of ice cream destined for some serious milkshakes -- why wouldn’t it be?

The deluxe breakfast sandwich combo for $5.85 caught my wayward eye, served with a choice of one whole donut (or six holes) and a hot or cold beverage. At this juncture, I realized that in a donut shop, discretion sucks even more than in real life. For an additional charge, just go for it with one of Rose’s famed double chocolate milkshakes to wash it all down.

There are few things more annoying than an ill-constructed sandwich so big it stresses the jaw, contents blowing out its back side with every bite. At first chomp, the lightly toasted sourdough sandwich left the roof of my mouth intact (a rare joy), and its perfect ratio of breakfasty ingredients proved an easy eat. Crunchy, dark strips of bacon atop deli ham wowed, and slices of Swiss and cheddar cheeses oozing down into a spongy layer of fried egg weren’t bad, either.

Between slugs of dense, creamy shake and mouthfuls of twice-porked breakfast sandwich, the electric-orange frosted-cake donut on the edge of my plate screamed for attention. This magical fry-factory turns out anything but the powdered-sugar, store-bought hockey pucks of my youth; this donut had light, moist dough, airy and so tender I hardly used teeth.

If a successful eatery shuns modern-day conveniences like a website, credit-card machine and even to-go menus, it’s likely that consistent, bona fide food has prevailed and drawn a following so loyal that little else matters. Fixed and on my way out, I asked the friendly woman behind the counter about the spectacular orange-flavored donut still on my chin. “Do you put -- ”

“Real fruit only!” She proudly exclaimed. Right-fucking-on. 

 
Write to amyg@sdcitybeat.com and editor@sdcitybeat.com.



 
 
 
 
 
 
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