For a HOLE lotta fun, pop along to Randy’s Donuts in Inglewood, Los Angeles. A pastiche of 1950s counter-culture, Randy’s is one of the most beloved restaurants in America, offering a plethora of pungent pastries. And bake sure to save room for the main course – the iconic, 32.6ft-wide donut on the roof!
Randy’s enormous donut is the first thing many people see as they descend upon the City of Angels. It’s only a few minutes drive from LAX – and the perfect place to carb load after a long flight. Dominating the landscape, the donut is as synonymous with the city as the Hollywood sign, botox, and homeless encampments.
What could be more typical of LA than a Korean tourist and a doo-rag-sporting gangbanger squatting next to each other, eyes agog, cream smeared across faces, after an encounter with Randy’s Donut?
You might recognise Randy’s Donuts from movies like Get Shorty, Iron Man 2, Mars Attacks! and the critically-divisive Earth Girls Are Easy. Don’t worry if you haven’t heard about that last one – it didn’t make much dough at the box-office!
The Donut, sadly, is often draped with advertising banners that completely obscure it. Thankfully, it was naked when I visited. I would’ve hated to be on the wrong end of some good old fashioned police brutality for tearing the signage off Randy’s Donut in order to take these extraordinary photos!
The Everlasting Glaze
The story of Randy’s Donuts is even more scrumptious than the treats they sell (although the fruity pebbles-sheathed donuts come pretty dang close!). Back in the late-’40s, an entrepreneurial chap named Russell C. Wendell launched a chain of takeaway restaurants known as The Big Do-Nut Drive-In.
Needing something to help stand out in the dog-eat-dog world of light refreshments, ‘Wendy’ approached eccentric structural engineer Richard Bradshaw with an outlandish idea. Each shop would be crested by a donut of obscene proportions.
Using rolled steel bars to create the rotund shape, and covering them with concrete, each Big Donut weighed an impressive 15,000 pounds. Which is about how much I’d weigh if I ate there every day, tee-hee!
The second shop opened in 1953, in the blossoming suburb of Inglewood – but I donut know why he chose that location. The restaurant, much like the donuts, was always jam-packed!
The grand opening was like nothing the good folk of LA had ever seen. Chevy Bel-Airs and Ford T-Birds were lined up round the corner. Greasers and socs put their differences to one side to share an apple fritter.
World peace, it seemed, was within our cinnamon-dusted grasp. I’m not going to sugarcoat it, but at this point the tale becomes a little bit stale.
Tired of standing in the shadow of his own big donut, ‘Wendy’ sold the restaurants in the 1970s. Robert Eskow bought the Inglewood location, renaming it Randy’s Donuts after his son. Tragically, most of the other shops closed, their Big Donuts scraped into the bin like yesterday’s leftovers.
In recent years, new Randy’s franchises have sprung up in Las Vegas, Saudi Arabia, South Korea and the Philippines. But none have a huge donut on the roof, so who cares?
Feeling Randy
As a strict adherent to the Atkins diet, I was only able to enjoy a few sumptuous bites from an Oreo-crowned frosted donut before rushing to the nearest restroom to purge myself of the dreaded calories. The creamy, dreamy flavours that swelled around in my mouth, however, were enough to cause my eyes to glaze over.
From bacon maple Long Johns to cinnamon-encrusted bear claws, sea salt caramel lattes to those super cute pink donuts with the itsy-bitsy sprinkles on the top – for any trip to LA, Randy’s is the icing on the cake… uh, donut!
Wiping the decadent chocolate from my lips, I noticed a familiar figure, clad in a sheepskin cloak that left little to the imagination, hobbling towards the donut shop. It was my good pal, beloved character actor Randy Quaid, who I befriended on the set of the Yuletide classic National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation 2: Cousin Eddie’s Island Adventure.
(As an aside, whilst I portrayed Clark – the son of Randy’s character, Eddie – in the film, Randy has come to see me as a father figure over the years, often approaching me for advice during his many times of need)
“Hi Randy,” I chuckled, before pointing towards the oversized donut. “Your order’s ready, and they’ve already written your name on it.”
Randy’s face dropped, and he peered anxiously around the busy car park.
“How do they know my name?” he yelped. His eyes darting from side to side. His tongue flicked across his lips. “And how do they know what I wanted? They’re watchin’ me, Bigs. The guv’ment is watchin’ me!”
With that, Randy – poor, sweet, misguided Randy – stripped off his cloak and then ran, naked, into the unflinching Los Angeles traffic.
Oh well, it’s not every day you get to see Randy’s Nuts!
