Close but no beignet

[pbray]

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.

Comments

[jjschwabach.livejournal.com]

They could use your tourist dollars now more than ever, though.

I've never been.

Perhaps we can get together a con group sometime, and hang around after listening to jazz and eating more beignets than you can shake a stick at.

After I kill my cat. Who has decided that the attic is the world's most fascinating place and incessantly attacks the door with his claws. He's not allowed in there because the door will not stay open on its own, so once he goes in, he gets stuck.

I went nowhere tonight, except to the library, which wasn't, technically speaking, open, but there were these voting machines....

[scbutler.livejournal.com]

Mmm...fried dough.

[pbray.livejournal.com]

It's not brats, but we do what we can.

Mmmmmm. beignets....

[susanjett.livejournal.com]

Do you know, only three days ago I copied a recipe from a cookbook for beignets. Not that I'll get around to the attempt in the next six months, but I've got - & would be happy to share - what looks like a decent, yeast-based recipe if you feel like getting adventuresome with 4 inches of hot oil anytime soon.

Chicory-coffee I can't help you with.

Oh, and I've found a fry-bread recipe too. And a sopapilla recipe. Sensing a fried-dough theme here?....

[allaboutm-e.livejournal.com]

Round? Whipped cream?

Somewhere someone is weeping.

And their tears are falling through the iron work table at the Cafe du Monde and joining the piles of powdered sugar on their laps...

Re: Mmmmmm. beignets....

[allaboutm-e.livejournal.com]

mmmmmmm sopapillas with honey

[allaboutm-e.livejournal.com]

Cat door?

Re: Mmmmmm. beignets....

[pbray.livejournal.com]

Sounds delicious, but my cooking skills probably bar me from anything to do with hot oil.

I really don't cook all that much--in fact I bought a new stove in August and while I've used all the burners on top, I've yet to try out the oven part.

[pbray.livejournal.com]

It was such a complete miss that it's comical, but yes, the folks at the Cafe are shaking their heads in pity at the antics of the uncivilized north.

Re: Mmmmmm. beignets....

[susanjett.livejournal.com]

Yeah, the 4 inches of hot oil has sort of deterred me, too...

Which is probably a good thing for my currently-unblistered self as well as my hopefully-not-expanding waistline.