Page 14 of For Butter or Worse
“You ready for the best donut of your life?” Jasmine rubbed her hands together.
“I’m ready for at least three of the best donuts of my life, thank you.” Being a bike associate, or partner, or sister, or whatever phrase wasn’t “bike bitch,” had made her hungrier than she was before they’d started.
“Do your parents know you’re here?” Nina asked. Theherebeing Highland Park, an LA neighborhood where Jasmine grew up and her parents still lived.
They walked across the sidewalk and the rubber soles of Jasmine’s Doc Martens groaned with each step. “Yeah, I told them we were coming. But they’re working on the Valentine’s Day gala plans—they strategize this shit so far in advance. They want me to swing by next week, though. Would you...?”
“You want me to come with?” Nina had played buffer for Jasmine on many occasions. Her parents could be...intense. They’d not only been married for thirty years—Nina had attended their pearl wedding anniversary party that summer—but they also worked together at the botanical gardens as codirectors. They were one of those couples who dressed alike without realizing it and spoke a shared language that only required looks and head nods. They were inseparable, and Jasmine was the only thing they were more passionate about than gardening. And with that passion, came the real problem—they loved to micromanage their daughter. As Jasmine had once told Nina, “I’m a Sagittarius and we cannot be tamed.”
“You know it.” Jasmine made prayer hands in front of her chest.
“Always down to see Dori and Cory.” Even their names sounded fake when spoken out loud.
“They won’t shut up about you, so I know the feeling is mutual,” Jasmine said.
Nina smiled softly. Unlike Jasmine, Nina liked hearing Cory and Dori’s opinions about her life. Their nosiness reminded her of her mom. At the end of the day, though, they weren’t her parents. She didn’t have to hear them harp on her regularly, just when she came for the occasional visit. So she could completely understand where Jasmine and her annoyance came from. And she tried to deflect for her friend as much as she could when she was around them.
They turned onto the main street and Jasmine pointed at a chalkboard sign that read, High Tea is SERVED in elaborate cursive scrawl.
“You do know scones are not donuts, right?” Nina wasn’t one to pass up any baked goods, but a donut was a donut. No scone would do.
“This is not your white, British-royals high tea, my friend. This is Highland Park high tea. It opened a month ago, and I think we’re about to have our whole world rocked.”
The Jam’s exterior was black-and-white—if you blinked you’d miss it. But when they went inside Nina immediately spotted a colorful mural of dinosaurs seated on velvet cushions, eating donuts and drinking out of porcelain cups. A pristine glass display case on the opposite wall featured rows and rows of endless donuts—a happy welcoming committee of frosting and dough.
“We’ll be having tea for two,” Jasmine said at the counter. “And for my donut, could I get the Swirly Rosewater, please?”
As soon as she saw the names and flavors of the donuts, she instantly knew two things: one, she was going to love these, and two, Leo would absolutely hate them. Nina suddenly felt sympathy for Leo any time a contestant created a unique flavor pairing on the show. She raced to find the donut her friend had ordered in the case, and landed on a frosted pink cake donut that had a lemon rosewater glaze topped with roasted pistachios. “You live your life in pink, Jas.”
“No better color. So from what I read online, the deal is that instead of scones, they do vegan donuts—”
Nina’s eyes narrowed, and Jasmine glared right back. “Don’t judge. What are you going to get?”
“I need chocolate,” Nina said. She scanned the rows in search of the perfect solution.
“May I recommend our Chocolate from the Crypt donut?” the saleswoman suggested from behind the display. Her sharp bangs and blunt ponytail bobbed as she explained, “It’s our fall-themed donut—chocolate cake with a chocolate glaze, and it’s got a kick from the cayenne pepper and cinnamon we add in.”
“Oh, my donut,” Nina said. In the case was an absolutely gorgeous chocolate confection—the cayenne and cinnamon flakes on the outside created a black-and-orange effect. “I am sold.”
“You got it.” The saleswoman nodded and rang them up.
A narrow hallway covered in murals of cartoon animals drinking tea led them to the official tearoom. Soaring ceilings revealed exposed beams and brick walls, signaling that the building was likely older and newly restored. Modern, barrel-back walnut chairs were clustered around ultrasleek Scandinavian round tables. Nina felt like she’d followed Jasmine down a rabbit hole and emerged into the modern interpretation of the Mad Hatter’s tea party.
“This is like...” Nina began. “It’s a fun aesthetic.”
“I know, right?” Jasmine replied as they sat down.
“It makes me feel like I’m not cool enough to be here, but glad I got invited.” Nina picked up the prix fixe high tea menu on the table. The Jam’s version of finger sandwiches were crispy “chicken” sliders, potato-hash tacos and mini banh mi, and in lieu of scones, they offered cornbread with raspberry jam and their signature donuts. “And it’s all vegan...?”
“Yes, my friendly carnivore, and hopefully delicious.”
Two stainless-steel tea trays arrived at their table, piled high with the food and topped with their donuts of choice. The server dropped off matching stainless-steel teapots, along with three different kinds of nondairy milk.
“I am very into all of this.” Nina started with the donut, because why the hell not? And she was going to have to give some vegan recipes a chance after tasting what was a seriously delicious donut. “Damn, this is so annoying. Am I going to turn vegan now?”
“I’m not going to fuck with nonvegan donuts anymore. Not after these.” Jasmine bit into her pink donut and moaned.
Nina poured herself some tea and added oat milk in. “Have you been thinking more about opening up your own spot?”
