NBC10 Boston reporter Mary Markos opens her story with a line that pretty much explains why this has people talking. In New England, she says, most of us know that “iconic scent” of Dunkin’ the second it hits the air.
But in Haverhill, Massachusetts, that smell isn’t just floating around a drive-thru window anymore. As Mary Markos reports from the neighborhood, some residents say it’s drifting so far it’s showing up where it doesn’t belong – inside their homes.
It’s the kind of complaint that sounds funny for about five seconds. Then you picture it: you wake up, walk into your living room, and your house smells like someone deep-fried a whole bakery overnight.
For some people, that’s a cozy little bonus. For others, it’s too much, too often, and it’s starting to feel like they don’t get a choice.
Inside Dunkin’s Biggest Donut Plant
Mary Markos points right to the source: Dunkin’s biggest donut-making facility in the entire country.
Inside the plant, she says, it’s a 100,000-square-foot operation that bakes roughly 1 million donuts every day. That’s not a small neighborhood bakery sending out a few trays at sunrise. That’s an industrial-scale food factory running a constant stream of frying, baking, and production.
And when you’re making that many donuts, the smell is not going to politely stay behind the building’s walls. It’s going to travel, especially if winds and weather decide to carry it straight into nearby streets.
Mary Markos describes it as the kind of scent anyone would recognize. The problem in Haverhill isn’t that the smell exists. It’s that the smell seems to be lingering – and landing – in places residents never agreed to share with a factory.
Neighbors Split Between “Not A Problem” And “Too Much”
In Mary Markos’ report, you can hear the split almost immediately.
Ron Heiseler, who lives less than a quarter mile away on Creek Brook Drive, tells NBC10 Boston what it smells like to him. “It’s like a fried dough smell,” he says.
Another resident, Bill MacDougall, puts it in even more familiar terms. “It smells like a bakery,” he tells Mary Markos, like someone is “cooking little cakes or something.”
What’s interesting is that both men sound more amused than angry. MacDougall even jokes he’s not sure who would complain about Dunkin’ Donuts – “maybe Starbucks people,” he quips.
Ron Heiseler also shrugs it off. He tells Mary Markos he can imagine “a lot worse things” to be smelling, and that donuts, to him, are “not a problem.”
That’s the part of the story that makes it feel very New England. A lot of people can tolerate a nuisance if it’s familiar, and if it feels harmless.
But Mary Markos also makes it clear there’s another camp: neighbors who aren’t laughing, because they say it’s been constant and heavy.
The Complaint That Changed The Tone
At a recent City Council meeting, a neighbor named Sean Wilson spoke up with a very different vibe than the donut jokes.
“It smells like donuts… all the time,” Wilson said, according to Mary Markos, adding that it has been happening “for the last two months.”
He didn’t describe it as cute or festive. He called it “distracting,” and he said it’s “heavy.”
That word matters. “Heavy” is not how people talk about a pleasant, passing aroma. It sounds more like something settling into the air and refusing to leave.
And once it reaches that point, the issue stops being “Do you like donuts?” and turns into something more basic: Should a residential neighborhood have to live inside an industrial smell plume, even if the smell is technically delicious?
This is where my patience would start to thin, too. A smell you choose – like walking into a shop – is one thing. A smell that follows you home and sits on your couch with you is something else.
City Hall Gets Pulled In Over Air Quality And Storage Tanks
Mary Markos reports that the smell issue is now tangled up with a separate but related concern: a request involving large tanks of edible shortening, oil, and diesel fuel.
That kind of detail tends to flip a switch for residents. Even if the smell itself sounds harmless, once you hear “diesel fuel,” you start asking different questions.
Wilson raised concerns about air quality, Mary Markos says, as the city considers that storage request. And even if some neighbors are fine with the donut odor, it makes sense that others would look at increased storage and think, “Are we about to get more production, more emissions, more smell, and more risk?”
At that same meeting, Mary Markos reports that JT Couch, identified as a representative from Creek Brook CML, explained how production currently runs.
“Right now, our production times are from 7 a.m. to about 1 p.m.,” Couch said.
He also explained that if they “bring in more stores,” that production window would lengthen to nearly “a full eight hours.”
That’s the kind of statement that can make nearby residents sit up straighter in their chairs. Because if people already feel like the smell is getting into their homes, hearing that production could expand sounds like a warning sign.
Even if the company is simply describing operations, neighbors hear it as: this might not get better on its own.
The City’s Next Steps And The Neighborhood’s Reality
Mary Markos says the city is waiting on sign-off from Inspectional Services. The hearing was continued until next month.
In the meantime, that leaves residents stuck in a strange in-between. They’re not getting a clear fix today, and they’re not getting told the problem will end tomorrow.
Mary Markos adds that city officials told her the Inspectional Services team was at the facility that day, and that city councilors are working to find a solution.
That sounds promising, but it also sounds like the slow grind of local government—inspect, review, schedule, continue the hearing, try to negotiate, repeat.
And while all that happens, the neighborhood keeps living there. Which means, as Mary Markos puts it, some people will keep waking up to the “sweetest alarm clock,” whether they like it or not.
One resident in the report even tries to put a holiday spin on it, saying it’s Christmas time and we should have smells of “food and joy,” and use our other senses.
That’s a charming attitude. But it also highlights the imbalance: it’s easy to say “enjoy it” when the smell doesn’t bother you.
If it does bother you – if it’s heavy, constant, and inside your house – then it stops being a cute seasonal thing and starts feeling like your living space is being shared with a factory you don’t control.
Why This Story Isn’t Just A Joke About Donuts
Mary Markos’ report works because it doesn’t pretend the complaint is ridiculous, even though the subject is funny on its face.
A donut smell is objectively better than a lot of industrial odors. That’s true. But “better than worse” isn’t the same as “acceptable.”
If a smell is strong enough to invade homes, it’s not really about donuts anymore. It’s about quality of life, and whether residents have any realistic way to escape it.
It’s also about trust. When neighbors hear talk of expanding storage tanks and longer production times, they worry the city will approve changes first and deal with consequences later.
Mary Markos notes NBC10 Boston reached out to Dunkin’ and Creek Brook CML. In the report, she indicates they did not immediately hear back.
So for now, the neighborhood is left with the same question hanging in the air as that sweet smell: Is this going to get fixed, or is this just the new normal in Haverhill?
Next month’s hearing may bring answers. Until then, residents on streets like Creek Brook Drive are stuck living inside a debate that sounds silly – right up until you realize it’s happening in their living rooms.
Raised in a small Arizona town, Kevin grew up surrounded by rugged desert landscapes and a family of hunters. His background in competitive shooting and firearms training has made him an authority on self-defense and gun safety. A certified firearms instructor, Kevin teaches others how to properly handle and maintain their weapons, whether for hunting, home defense, or survival situations. His writing focuses on responsible gun ownership, marksmanship, and the role of firearms in personal preparedness.
