Ever since the film “Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle” came out, I’ve noticed that White Castle has been getting a lot of attention. And with all the recent clamor around “Super Size Me,” a documentary about a man who lived on McDonald’s for a month, I’m sure many are secretly shoving Big Macs into their mouths while wrestling with guilt over their failed diet plans.

I feel an injustice has been caused. What about Krispy Kreme?

If people are adamant about ruining their health and declaring war on their colons, they should be shoving Krispy Kreme doughnuts into their mouths. In the hierarchy of delicious junk food, Krispy Kreme is king.

At one time, I was the least likely person to become a Krispy Kreme convert. Having worked in a bakery for two years, I witnessed daily the perspiration drip from the baker’s headband into the vat of doughnut grease. Yet, I had heard so frequently how amazing the Krispy Kreme experience was. I’d been told that within Krispy Kreme’s blessed doors, you were at once enveloped by a smell so luscious that all self-restraint immediately disappeared. And just to close the deal, they made it common practice to tempt you with a free doughnut, fresh out of the oven (and I know that even sweaty bakery doughnuts are good hot).

One summers evening, struck by impulse, a fellow comrade and I decided we would drive to the nearest Krispy Kreme store (we had also just seen “Harold and Kumar,” and I would be lying if I said we weren’t touched).

It took us about an hour to get to the closest location, and since our spontaneity had struck no earlier than 11 p.m., we arrived just after they closed. No worries – Krispy Kreme had anticipated late-night callers such as ourselves – who had trekked an hour from the suburbs just to get a pastry – and offers a 24-hour drive-through.

As we drove around the enormous facility, we imagined it must have been like the Willy Wonka factory of doughnuts inside. It was so huge; they must have had dozens of flavors to choose from.

We were wrong. Turns out, the “menu” consisted of only six different kinds – at least that’s the choices offered in a pickup window at midnight.

After we received the goods, we sampled each other’s doughnuts to see what we were missing. And all the stories were true – these were the most delicious things to happen to mankind.

I made the mistake of taking the first bite of my friend’s caramel apple doughnut. It was as if I had summoned some sort of Krispy Kreme genie – the doughnut actually exploded.

Hot caramel shot out everywhere: on my clothes, all over the seat. I shrieked, hastily mopping up my pants while my rueful friend relieved me of the much lighter dessert.

We drove home, feeling we had really gotten the most out of our Krispy Kreme experience.

Who knows? Maybe it’ll be a documentary someday.

Columns reflect the opinion of the author and not necessarily that of the Northern Star staff.