Snobnobbin' With Mark S.

Scientists say we are experiencing a peak level of extinction events around the globe, with over 200 species of plants and animals lost to time every day. You gotta wonder, how long will Nostrand Donuts last? This cheery counter (the very term, like "luncheonette," sounds antique enough to conjure a T. rex watering hole) has been in operation near the corner of Church Ave. since 1963. Inside, a bustling takeout business can't obscure the spacious, undulating counter and stools, arcing around the white-aproned staff like a slot car track. Have a seat, order a container of coffee regular, or light and sweet. Too much caffeine make you nervous? Don't worry, there's Sanka. The donuts are fresh, homemade, and while they are not the precious marvels you'd pay $4 -$5 for at Dough or Donut Plant, you don't have to wait in line for them, either, and as they say, the smiles are free. The cruller (the standard by which cake donuts should be judged) is crisp and savory, and cremes and jellies abound for yeast-donut fans. What's more, you can get almost anything you want for breakfast, so long as it's eggs, and sandwiches and soup appear in the afternoon. Show up with a couple of kids and you've won the lottery -- the multigenerational crew and owners John and Angela Pissias (baking here since 1974) will treat you like royalty and stuff the little ones full of donut holes. Service like this is indeed an endangered species. As are the prices -- a family of four can breakfast for less than a pair of tens. Add that to the sugar and caffeine and it's impossible to leave here unhappy. When you're done, push all the napkins and styrofoam over the counter to the waiting trash can. Leave a nice tip. So ends all things.