Top Pot Hand-Forged Doughnuts - Mark Klebeck [2]
Then we hit upon the idea of opening a doughnut shop, making them by hand rather than depending on the machines the large, increasingly popular doughnut shops were using. Following the same design philosophy we captured at Zeitgeist, and before that at another coffee shop called Bauhaus, we decided to name our new place Top Spot and to front it with the rickety old neon sign. Before becoming coffee entrepreneurs, we had been general contractors, and between us, we had years of experience in remodeling, building cabinetry, and designing restaurant spaces. So we built out the cafe ourselves, pouring the terrazzo floors and building the bookcases—now a signature trimming at Top Pot’s cafes—one shelf at a time. But the day we drove the sign down Interstate 5 in Michael’s 1966 Ford F-100, there was a rattle and a loud clunk as the “S” fell off the rusty old sign—and Top Pot Doughnuts was born.
When the Summit Avenue store opened, things were a little hectic. We had the doughnut-frying equipment but no doughnut-making experience. We knew doughnuts were special; as the last two of eight kids, we would often get to go with our mother to a doughnut shop in Tacoma called The Golden Oven for twists, as a special treat when she had time with just the two of us. We felt we could create a doughnut that was more artisanal and more gourmet than what was out there, hand cutting each batch, and frying and glazing in small batches rather than relying on conveyor belts and machines to churn out doughnuts no human hands had touched. We thought, “How hard could it be?”
For the first month, while we sold the same muffins, bagels, and scones we’d had at Zeitgeist, we learned how to make doughnuts. We made mistakes. But since the beginning, accidents have been a crucial part of the process and, we believe, of our success. We didn’t want to make the same doughnuts those other guys made, so we tinkered and played, crafting doughnut after doughnut by hand until we found versions that fitted our creative personalities—hence our slogan, “Hand- Forged Doughnuts.” We talked to our customers and realized that even though about 80 percent of the doughnuts made in the United States were raised (yeast) doughnuts, people wanted more cake doughnuts. So we made more cake. A month later, without the help of a single doughnut expert, we had doughnuts we loved.
Once we started actually selling them, word about Top Pot Doughnuts spread quickly. Seattleites poured in from all over the city, packing dozens away for soccer games, parties, and meetings. The line snaked out the door. In the fall of 2003, we opened our flagship store on Fifth Avenue, right in downtown Seattle, outfitted with a neon bucking bronco sign, huge, two-story-tall greenhouse windows, a bakery big enough to produce doughnuts for multiple stores, and a coffee-roasting room. It immediately became not just a neighborhood habit for locals, but also an essential stop on Seattle’s tourist routes.
One morning shortly after it opened, Howard Schultz, chairman and CEO of Starbucks, visited the Fifth Avenue store. He ordered a variety dozen, and apparently loved them. Fast forward to 2005: We started working with Starbucks to bake doughnuts for their stores—first just in western Washington, then across the Pacific Northwest, and then across the United States.
In the years that followed, we opened four more doughnut cafes in Seattle’s Wedgwood, Queen Anne, Bellevue, and Mill Creek neighborhoods. We designed and built each ourselves. At each location, Top Pot cafes mimic our doughnut style—creatively but simply decorated and totally self-inspired.
Top Pot Doughnuts are now sold in Seattle, in 14,000 Starbucks stores, in Whole Foods Markets in the Pacific Northwest, and in airports and coffee shops across the United States. In 2009, we equipped a 1962 Airstream Bambi with racks that hold 100 dozen