Drunken Clevelanders emerging from parties and bars all over the east side find themselves following their noses to Presti's bakery in Little Italy at 2 and 3 am. They're following the sweet warm vapors emitted by the making of fresh donuts. Like Bob's on Polk in San Francisco, these donuts are evil in their ability to lure you out of a warm car on the snowiest rainiest windiest night in a dark North Coast winter to tromp through the icy drifts toward sweet glazed nirvana in the form of a hot donut.