Nama-Style I'm Donut?

There are donut shops. And then there is I’m Donut, the dangerously fluffy, ridiculously addictive bakery that has turned Shibuya into a battlefield of sweet-toothed warriors.

Located just a few minutes from the chaos of Shibuya Crossing, I’m Donut looks deceptively modest from the outside. Inside, though, it is a full-blown assault on your willpower. The moment you walk through the door, you are hit with the warm, buttery aroma of fresh dough dancing seductively through the air. You tell yourself you will only buy one. This is the first lie of many you will tell today.

The magic at I’m Donut is their “nama” style doughnut. Nama means raw or fresh in Japanese, and the texture of these donuts is no joke. They are so soft and squishy you might genuinely think someone baked a cloud, gave it a gentle hug, and sprinkled it with fairy dust. This is not an exaggeration. You can poke these donuts and they will bounce back like they have unfinished business.

The flavors are equally insane. Classic ones like sugar and chocolate are pure comfort, but the real fun starts with the weird and wonderful. There is matcha green tea for the classy snacker, PB&J for those channeling their inner five-year-old, and even savory options like the bacon-wrapped donut that seems to whisper, “you only live once” every time you look at it. The kabocha squash flavor is also suspiciously good, making you wonder if vegetables are actually delicious when disguised in a golden fried halo.

Ordering is a full-contact sport. By noon, the line stretches down the block. People from all walks of life wait patiently, united by a singular dream: to get their hands on that elusive tray of golden joy. Office workers, tourists, and tiny grandmas armed with giant shopping bags stand shoulder to shoulder, forging silent donut alliances.

You finally make it to the counter, wide-eyed and sweating with anticipation. The staff, probably trained in the ancient art of donut temptation, smiles sweetly and begins rattling off the menu like auctioneers. You panic and order one of everything. You regret nothing.

The moment you sink your teeth into the first donut, you realize why this shop is practically a shrine. It is soft yet chewy, rich yet airy, sweet but not cloying. You make noises normally reserved for fine dining tasting menus. It is inappropriate. It is glorious.

As you stumble back out into the blinding Tokyo sun, arms loaded with your new bakery bounty, you know two things for certain. One, you will absolutely be back. Two, you are probably going to eat three of these before you even reach the next intersection.

At I’m Donut, resistance is not just futile. It is foolish.