Golden Donut

While Olympic and Kin Len anchor North Park's savory side—slow-cooked lamb and wok-charred basil—Golden Donut holds down the morning ritual with a different kind of craft: yeasted dough that comes out of the fryer still warm at 6 a.m., glazed while you're ordering your iced coffee. The Vietnamese-style drip setup isn't for show—there's a row of phin filters percolating over sweetened condensed milk, the traditional slow-drip method that makes waiting feel intentional instead of annoying. Pair that with a bear claw stuffed with actual apple filling (not the gummy paste situation) and you've got the neighborhood's most reliable early start.

The donuts themselves are massive—closer to what you'd find at a county fair than a minimalist bakeshop. Croissants come oversized and layered, cinnamon rolls sprawl across the box, and the selection runs wide enough that regulars have their weekly rotation dialed in. The ladies behind the counter greet everyone with the same warmth whether you're ordering one or a dozen, which matters when the parking lot outside turns into a weekday-morning demolition derby of people trying to grab boxes before work.

It's housed in a small shopping plaza off University, the kind of unglamorous setup that North Park natives know hides the good stuff. No exposed brick, no Edison bulbs—just a neighborhood donut shop that's been making the same thing well, early, for people who need fuel before the rest of the corridor wakes up. Show up past 8 a.m. on weekends and the selection thins fast; the smart move is hitting it when the fryer's still running and the coffee's still dripping.