Magnificent New England Obsession

There are many things for which New England holds a monopoly:  a distinctive r-challenged accent, the Protestant work ethic, and a perverse, religious-like dedication to Dunkin’ Donuts.  To say that New England is Dunkin’ obsessed is not an exaggeration.  In fact, there are no less than thirty-one Dunkin’ Donuts stores within a five-mile radius of my home!

Dunkin’ Donuts stores are not just bake shops—store fronts at which tired little men mumble “time to make the donuts” while shuffling slipper-clad feet.  Indeed, Dunkin’ Donuts are community magnets, early morning meeting places for business commuters, tradespeople, and hockey parents alike.  Despite efforts to promote healthy foods in our schools, donuts and munchkins are doled out generously to youngsters at an alarming rate, treating the confections as if they are a balanced meal certified by the Iowa Breakfast Study.  More and more, New England runs on Dunkin’—and this includes a growing number of school aged kids who are arriving at school fed the fleeting carbs of an iced and sprinkle-bedazzled donut.

Even more remarkable is the role that Dunkin’ Donuts plays in defining the New England landscape.  So ubiquitous are these establishments that no one can give directions without including a reference to at least one Dunkin’ shop.  When I first moved to town, it did not matter whether I was seeking the supermarket, the hardware store, or a car wash, the response was always the same:  “You know where the Dunkin’ Donuts is?  Well just go there and turn right.”  It took me a while to realize that there were no less than six Dunkin’ Donuts in our town of 33,000.  That’s one shop for every 5,500 people!

Growing up in South Florida, my benchmark for donut excellence was Krispy Kreme.  I was weaned on the delectable chocolate iced, cream-filled donuts—not the ones with custard, but the ones with the marshmallow-like white goo inside.  My mouth is conditioned to water at the red neon “Hot Donuts” sign in the window.  A couple of late night donuts and a cup of hot chocolate were a popular way to end a date in high school.

Several years ago, some rational thinking business gurus realized the market dominance of Dunkin’ Donuts throughout New England, deciding it was a good harbinger of profits for the Krispy Kreme chain.  With much fanfare, they announced that Krispy Kreme was entering the New England market, sure to satiate deprived Yankees that had been force fed inferior donuts for generations.  Investors were counting their excess profits and licking their lips even before the flagship shop on Route 16 in Medford was framed out.  For its first month, they offered free glazed donuts to all who entered, a phenomenon that caused an hour-long wait as people queued up around the building to see what the fuss was about.  Saving on bricks and mortar, they distributed fresh donuts to supermarkets and Mobil stations, making Krispy Kremes available about every half mile.

But where the investors may have believed they were financially right, they were market wrong; Krispy Kreme failed miserably.  Dunkin’ Donuts, it turns out, is a misnomer.  Over half of Dunkin’s business is coffee; this is what explained the remarkable financial success of Dunkin' Donuts.  When the tagline says, “America runs on Dunkin’" they are referring to caffeine addiction.  In fact, a clever consumer might notice that the Dunkin’ Donuts logo is not a donut at all—it is a cup of coffee. 

Many years ago, I was having some work done on my house.  In an effort to be nice to the workmen, I offered to make a big pot of coffee so they did not have to keep running out to Dunkin’ Donuts (naturally, there is one up the street from my house).  I proudly ground some fresh Starbucks beans and brewed a steaming pot, filling the house with the gorgeous smell of French Roast.  I put out a spread in the kitchen, including cream and sugar and an assortment of mugs.  The guys all came running and filled their cups—nearly choking on the strong Starbucks brew.  The next morning the guys arrived with extra-large cups of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee.  I never pushed the “good stuff” on them again.

New Englanders are very fixed in their ways.  They do not put street signs on their major roads because they do not care whether or not visitors know where they are.  They support their sports teams to the point of violence.  And they do not suffer gladly those who would come between them and their precious Dunkin’ Donuts brew.

Tomorrow's blog:  Sibling Revelry