I just returned from a trip to New Orleans, where my husband and I took in the local scenery, fabulous music, and of course…food. We ate our way through the city, gorging ourselves on all the fresh flavors of catfish, oysters, shrimp, jambalaya, red beans & rice, and gumbo.
“Oh, you must go to Cafe du Monde and have beignets!” said one person after another, almost word for word, which had me suspecting they were part of a mass marketing campaign aimed solely at me.
I shrugged. I’m an experienced cook and baker, and I’ve made beignets in my kitchen before. To be fair, they are delicious: little squares of fried dough, piled high with powdered sugar. But having made them, I know there is nothing special about the ingredients. Mix up a little yeast, flour, milk, sugar, then fry it in oil and you’ve got yourself a beignet.
New Orleans is a different world from where I live, and our time there was a precious vacation, especially in the midst of winter. We rang in the new year by walking the vibrant streets of the French Quarter, listening to jazz and blues spilling onto the streets from dive bars and jazz clubs. Folks flung beads from balconies overlooking Bourbon Street while women wearing shimmering silver dresses and men in brightly colored jackets danced in the streets. At midnight, fireworks lit up the sky.
On our final day in New Orleans, we gave in: everyone told us to get beignets at Cafe du Monde, so why should we question it?
After exploring the botanical garden in City Park, it was mid-afternoon and we were ready for a coffee break.
We made our way to one end of the park until we spied the green and white striped awnings of Cafe du Monde. A table opened up on the patio, and we sat facing outward so we could watch people. Families played in the park and couples walked by, hand in hand. A particularly stylish woman rode by on a vintage red bicycle wearing a huge straw hat and sunglasses. Her floral dress fluttered in the breeze as she pedaled past us. I took a sip of my chicory coffee and finally, a bite of a beignet.
I’m not too proud to admit I was wrong. If you’re in New Orleans, you must go to Cafe du Monde and have beignets. You must. It’s not about the yeast, flour, milk, and sugar. It’s the flavor, texture, and powdered sugar that gets everywhere, paired with the feeling of 70 degrees in January, the sound of children laughing, and the rush of the streetcar while you bite into that crispy little fried doughnut with the soft, chewy center. It’s the smell of the cooking oil and the sound of kids playing while looking out at the sight of huge Live Oaks and Bald Cypress trees, dripping with Spanish moss.
We left the cafe feeling happy and refreshed. My husband turned to look at me, chuckled, and brushed some errant powdered sugar from my forehead. I’m nothing if not an enthusiastic eater.
Some things are meant to go together. It’s like salt and pepper. Lennon and McCartney. Abbott and Costello. Barbie and Ken. Some things can stand alone and be good, but together they are something cosmic.
I’ll probably still make beignets at home from time to time. The ingredients are always on hand: yeast, flour, milk, and sugar. Maybe I’ll sit in my backyard on a breezy day and turn on some music and close my eyes when I take my first bite. They will be good, but not as good as the ones we ate in New Orleans. Flavor isn’t just about ingredients. Flavor can be a feeling. Flavor is an all-encompassing experience involving all five of the senses. I hope New Orleans will wait for me, so I can return to its sparkling streets someday, with a smile on my face and powdered sugar on my forehead.
1 Comment
Carol, I loved this article, loved the way you wrote it. Keep it up.