World’s Fair Donuts: The Perfect Start to a Summer Morning

It’s rare in today’s culture of continuous development to witness a business that probably hasn’t changed since it was founded in 1976. World’s Fair Donuts, located at 1904 South Vandeventer Avenue in St. Louis, Missouri, is about as unassuming as you can get. It’s a squat brick building with dirty white paint, a sign above the door, and two old-fashioned “OPEN” signs leaning against each plate glass window. It sits in a small parking lot, whose cracked and grease-stained asphalt has also been around for quite some time.

When we arrived at the shop, there was a short line stretching into the parking lot (the line was short because the shop is tiny and about three people can stand in line inside before you have to open the door.) M, M, and I got in line and chatted as people joined in behind us and we gradually inched forward. It was a warm summer morning, one of the first mornings in a long time where none of us had anything urgent to do, so although we were looking forward to the donuts, we didn’t feel particularly impatient to be waiting. When we made it inside, I gazed around as we waited, taking in a shop-sized time capsule. The donut case stretches across most of the width of the store, with a couple of refrigerated drink cases on the far right. Behind the donuts and the cash register, there is a broad table where one of the proprietors stands, cutting donuts out of thick, pale dough by hand with a stainless steel donut press. The faux marble wall behind him sports several artistically lettered signs featuring whimsically salty quips including “If you believe in CREDIT, loan me 5 bucks.” In the age of swiping your card through the Square attachment on an iPad, this shop stands unapologetically firm in its identity, seeming to assert “I’m not interested in changing to cater to your newfangled whims. Love me or hate me, this is who I am.” The shop is clean but plain; it doesn’t appear that any of the fixtures inside of it have changed since it first opened. Years of use have softened the edges and added a grayish hue to the timeworn floors and counters, but the light coming in through the windows is bright and the donuts peek cheerily through the long glass cases.

The hours of the store are inexplicably posted above the door from the inside (too bad if you’re outside wondering when it will open next), and they’re astonishing; the store OPENS at 4:00 am and doesn’t close until 6:30 pm, Monday through Friday. It also opens at 4 am on Saturday and Sunday (though it closes at 3). How early do the proprietors need to rise to prepare donuts for the next morning? This is one of the cruelest realities of baking to me—the products are so sweet, but the process involves never-ending ungodly wake-up calls. The earlier I have to get up, the groggier and more unkempt I become, but not so for the second proprietor who is here serving us donuts, as she has clearly been doing for the past forty-one years. Her uniformly sandy hair is pinned up into an efficient French twist, and she sports a fully made up face, including generous eyeliner, a neutral lip tone, and a bold brow. She is slightly stooped but brisk and methodical, asking crisply who’s next and moving quickly behind the display case to take bags or boxes from where they are stacked on the counter and place donuts in them.

We ask for five donuts in a box, but she says “Boxes are for six or more donuts,” so in they go to the waxy white bag, stacked one on top of another and separated by thin layers of tissue paper. M pays cash for them, and we’re all surprised at how little she puts down (we haven’t spotted prices posted anywhere). Back in the car, I do some quick mental math and discover that the donuts are about sixty-one cents apiece, an undeniable bargain in this era of oversized bespoke gourmet donuts that can ring in at $3-5 for a single treat. When we bite into the donuts, we are delighted by the textures and flavors that we discover. I have a red velvet cake donut with clear glazed icing, whose chocolaty red hue accompanies a moist, flavorful crumb. It is both substantial and light; its give when you bite into it is thick and satisfying, but the mouthful melts gracefully onto your tongue. We are happy as we leave the tiny parking lot and drive over to the botanical gardens to continue our agreeably slow morning.