Close but no beignet

My favorite restaurant throws an annual Mardi Gras party, which is something I look forward to every year. Around here, it's the only time I can get chicken stuffed with andouille sausage, red beans and rice, and a side of collard greens, while listening to a live jazz band. As always, the dinner was fabulous, and then I performed my annual experiment and ordered beignets. After one look at the beignets, jennifer_dunne wisely decided to try the King cake instead.

Every year the restaurant gets the beignets wrong. Sometimes they resemble donuts, other times they taste like the fried dough served at local fairs. This year they were small, round dense balls of a cake-like mixture, deep-fried until they had a thick crust, then topped with powder sugar and garnished with whipped cream. They weren't bad, but they weren't beignets.

I've been to New Orleans several times, mostly in the summer when the heat meant that conventions could get cheap hotel rooms, and I have strong memories of New Orleans the way it used to be.

I remember rising at dawn on a summer morning, strolling down to the Cafe du Monde, sitting outside as I sipped chicory-laced coffee and nibbled on heavenly beignets. At that hour of the morning the French Quarter was quiet, the tourists still in their beds, and it was incredibly peaceful. After breakfast I walked by the riverside, until I reluctantly returned to the hotel, washed the powdered sugar off my hands, and donned my business attire.

I promised myself that I'd get back to New Orleans someday as a tourist, with no commitments nor agenda. That never happened before Katrina, and I have mixed feelings about making the trip now.

But I'd love to wake up tomorrow and be able to taste real beignets.