by pinback » Wed May 28, 2014 2:07 pm
#3: BEIGNETS, AT CAFE BEIGNET
"One thing you gotta do is go to Cafe Du Monde for the beignets!!" everyone will tell you. Then you will get to Cafe Du Monde and find a line to get in snaking two blocks down Decatur St. and then you have a decision to make. Our decision was, we're fine doing tourist stuff, but we ain't waiting in a long line for fuckin' anything. There doesn't EXIST a meal that I'd wait for like it was the new ride on opening day at Six Flags.
So Kathy found this place, which is not quite as famous, but was closer to the hotel, and had a nice courtyard, and good coffee, and she went there one morning while I slept. She had the beignets and said they're really really good, I gotta try one next time.
Now, two things I generally don't like are: Eating in the morning (not hungry), and: Sweets. Not that I don't LIKE sweets, I'd just rather have bacon and eggs than a pancake, know what I'm saying? So the thought of getting up early to get a... what is it?
"Beignet"?? The fuck is a Beignet?
Savvyraven lived up to the "savvy" in her name by trying to describe them to me as "kind of like a sopapilla", since she knows I'm still sour we had to leave New Mexico. "Kind of like a sopapilla, but filled with dough instead of air, and covered in powdered sugar." Well, I like sopapillas, but again, there is no way you're going to get me excited about some piece of sweetened, fried dough when I'd rather be sleeping.
But it was vacation, and she really wanted me to go, so I came along, and we ordered our coffee and got our "beignets", fresh out of the deep fryer, and sat in the courtyard. You get three beignets to an order. I just wanted like a bite of one to see what it was. So I bit into one.
One of those beautiful food moments then occurs, where your brain just snaps out of whatever plans it was making and reflections it was reflecting, and all you can think is, this, this right here, is the best thing ever.
A million degrees, crispy crunchy on the outside, a pillow of fucking heaven in between, with powdered sugar flying everywhere... The first one was gone before I stopped mumbling "oghh myghh ghghod" while the birds try to catch the little bits of dough spittling out of my mouth.
I felt Savvyraven was pushing her luck a little when she said, "better than a sopapilla, right?" I sneered back, put down my beignet, took a slow, long sip of coffee, looked at her and said:
Holy fuckin' christ yes.
Sorry ABQ. The French are disgusting, rude, smelly, surrendering pussies, but in the food world, everything they even had a remote hand in influencing is just incredible.
[b][color=yellow][size=200]#3: BEIGNETS, AT [url=http://www.cafebeignet.com/]CAFE BEIGNET[/url][/size][/color][/b]
"One thing you gotta do is go to Cafe Du Monde for the beignets!!" everyone will tell you. Then you will get to Cafe Du Monde and find a line to get in snaking two blocks down Decatur St. and then you have a decision to make. Our decision was, we're fine doing tourist stuff, but we ain't waiting in a long line for fuckin' anything. There doesn't EXIST a meal that I'd wait for like it was the new ride on opening day at Six Flags.
So Kathy found this place, which is not quite as famous, but was closer to the hotel, and had a nice courtyard, and good coffee, and she went there one morning while I slept. She had the beignets and said they're really really good, I gotta try one next time.
Now, two things I generally don't like are: Eating in the morning (not hungry), and: Sweets. Not that I don't LIKE sweets, I'd just rather have bacon and eggs than a pancake, know what I'm saying? So the thought of getting up early to get a... what is it? [i]"Beignet"??[/i] The fuck is a Beignet?
Savvyraven lived up to the "savvy" in her name by trying to describe them to me as "kind of like a sopapilla", since she knows I'm still sour we had to leave New Mexico. "Kind of like a sopapilla, but filled with dough instead of air, and covered in powdered sugar." Well, I like sopapillas, but again, there is no way you're going to get me excited about some piece of sweetened, fried dough when I'd rather be sleeping.
But it was vacation, and she really wanted me to go, so I came along, and we ordered our coffee and got our "beignets", fresh out of the deep fryer, and sat in the courtyard. You get three beignets to an order. I just wanted like a bite of one to see what it was. So I bit into one.
One of those beautiful food moments then occurs, where your brain just snaps out of whatever plans it was making and reflections it was reflecting, and all you can think is, this, this right here, is the best thing ever.
A million degrees, crispy crunchy on the outside, a pillow of fucking heaven in between, with powdered sugar flying everywhere... The first one was gone before I stopped mumbling "oghh myghh ghghod" while the birds try to catch the little bits of dough spittling out of my mouth.
I felt Savvyraven was pushing her luck a little when she said, "better than a sopapilla, right?" I sneered back, put down my beignet, took a slow, long sip of coffee, looked at her and said:
Holy fuckin' christ yes.
Sorry ABQ. The French are disgusting, rude, smelly, surrendering pussies, but in the food world, everything they even had a remote hand in influencing is just incredible.