In a Dunkin’ Donuts world, it’s comforting to know there are still places E. B. White might have recognized during his ambulations through the streets of New York. Founded in the early 1960s, Donut Pub’s steel-and-neon-lettered façade echoes even earlier days, when sailors might have popped in for a last sip and dip before being shipped off to war in Europe. The innards of the narrow shop have a spit-polish shine, with gleaming white tiles, mirrors, and wooden wainscoting along the length of one side, and a floor of blue-and-white checkered tiles below. Donut Pub’s heart, though, is the wall of doughnuts — rings, old-fashioned, crullers, French and crumb, honey-dipped, chocolate dipped, coated in coconut and sprinkles, filled with blueberry, apple, lemon, and “creme,” cinnamon buns, twists, éclairs, turnovers, and Pom Poms. These are no gourmet treats, just light and crispy, cakey and crumbly, the way they should be. Grab a stool along the long marble counter, or bar (this is a pub, after all), order up a bagel and egg sandwich, a cup of stiff coffee, and a doughnut on your way out. Standard deli sandwiches like tuna salad, turkey, ham and cheese, are also served.