All Hail, Kalo ~~ All In A Weekend’s Time
All photos by Chelsey Crabbe
(Written November 2023)
I was right. Los Angeles is layered and it boasts many iterations. If I were a betting man, I’d say that each Angeleno, locals and transplants alike, has a map brochure in their back pocket, a driving tour of sites, landmarks and attractions that make up “their L.A.”
Nestled inside of Central LA, there is a village by the name of Larchmont and on this half-mile strip of asphalt lives a small brick and mortar by the name of Holey Grail. A donut shop. And golly, Ms. Molly, I have found the holy grail. Here yee, here yee, tell the knights of the Round Table that the chalice lies inside a black box with a gold label.
I am a girl from New England. I went through growing pains around white cardboard boxes filled with donuts, powdered sugar tickling my nose, and jelly sticking to my cheeks. I don’t want to say I know donuts, but I am from the land of donut dunking. I walked inside. I looked at the menu. Not so many choices. No visuals. I walk up to order, fearlessly, and ask for what’s called the “Original Sin.” A maple-glaze sort of thing.
“That’ll be a few minutes. Please, feel free to sample some single-origin dark chocolate while you wait. Next.”
Now, what were they doing back there? Making it from scratch? I’m from the land of Munchkins, just throw my 12 dozen donut holes in a tiny, cardboard briefcase and send me on my way. Breathe deeper, move slowly, this is Los Angeles and the sun is not going anywhere, I tell myself. I tasted the chocolate nibs -- India, Ecuador, Belize, Tanzania, you name it. Cocoa beans grow equatorially. I eavesdropped on what others were ordering. They, too, were confused by the concept. My name was called and a tiny, black box with a golden chalice embossed on the front was presented to me. It was no short of a wedding proposal, from where I was standing. Still a ring inside that box. Mine? Piping hot, dripping in a vanilla maple glaze, yet to cool and turn matte.
Steam be damned, I bit into the single best thing to grace my palette in a long while. Please take all innuendo with the utmost seriousness. I took a bite and my heart grew three sizes that day. I transformed from a grinch to married woman all in a matter of seconds, because all it took was a few seconds to finish it. I turned right around and ordered another. And turned right around the very next day and bought two more. I shared, of course.
I told people in the streets about these donuts, corralling folks in to try this fried elixir -- and they listened!
I was no short of a man in a van or a man jumping on a yellow couch professing his love. I think I spoke to about six strangers this weekend in regards to the Holey Grail. And I am happy to report, I am not the only one under the spell of one of Earth’s most sustainable plants: taro. Kalo, as it's known in Hawaii, is highly-revered, and its mythic origin is a story for the centuries, but that’s not really my story to tell. Though, trust me when I say, taro isn’t just any old starch. Rather, in this case, a life-affirming ingredient for an equally-impressive recipe. Funny enough, I’m watching that HBO show about Julia Child. She just tasted loup en croûte, a flaky fish baked in an outer layer of flaky pastry shaped like a fish. Oh, where would we be without the French? One bite, and Julia’s transfixed, completely and utterly!
“I’ve never tasted anything like it. I feel…like a virgin again. Well, I was -- just a moment ago.”
That is how I feel about this warm, sticky taro donut from Holey Grail Donuts in Larchmont Village. A safe, hiding place for me in this exhausting and alive city. But Chelsey, why does any of this matter? Because, it’s a marker on the map of my new LA, and I think that’s a good place to start. One’s life trajectory can change in an instant, by anything -- a lesson I am most often learning. In this case, from a tiny donut inside a tiny box. In other cases, en route to some other Holey Grail. So it matters. Sometimes, life is just sorrow with a delicious donut sprinkled in here and there, so I treasure those moments and add them to my map. And I salivate thinking about which stone to stumble over next — I’m happy to make the pilgrimage.
Other markers include:
Toyota of Glendale where I walk in like its Cheers and a salesman by the name of Sam asks me how my mother is…plus, I can get a good cup of coffee there for free.
The Hollywood DMV where everyone smiles at the one bloke on the way out, having completed their kafkaesque task for the day. We smile, with the hope that we, too, will make it out of there alive.
The Skate Dance Plaza, Venice Beach where the kind of serotonin that makes you believe in humanity and the connectedness of the universe is on tap to the tune of Missy Elliot and Luther Vandross.
The Reel Inn, Malibu where it’s your choice of fish and two sides, plus surfers -- who are unfortunately not on the menu.
Others do NOT include:
Whole Foods, West Hollywood where my sister and I were bullied out of the lot by a wealthy, nondescript woman with an attitude made fearless by stupidity and absolutely ZERO holiday spirit.
Palm-lined boulevards during an El Niño where a snapped tree is only a gust away.
A restaurant not to be named, but with food so spicy…I rocket-launched into outer space, burning out my fuse, the trauma to my esophagus still tender. I’d sooner rather set my tongue ablaze than eat there again. Babe, it’s not you, it’s me.
LA County Holey Grail Locations:
LARCHMONT VILLAGE (of course)
148 N Larchmont Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90004
SANTA MONICA
2441 Main Street
Santa Monica, CA 90405
LONG BEACH
4803 2nd st
Long Beach, ca 90803