At first, venturing out beyond the walls of my hotel without a game plan was a bit overwhelming. But i was itching to go eat and explore. There was this list of things i wanted to do, which i pulled from many sources. My boss Pandee told me to go to Mother's for the Ferdie Special w/ Debris, Cafe Du Monde for Chicory Cafe au Lait, Central Grocery for Muffaletta, etc... Her list was a best of the best. Then Christine Carroll, the Culinary Corps founder/organizer had a more elaborate list that covered everything from best lunch to best recreational cooking classes. So, to be sure, i had a plethora of things to do but somewhat limited means by which to explore these many options. But i did my best to see as much as i could in the limited time i had. Cruising down canal street gave you so many options, but that road ultimately led to one place.
I was drawn to this place more often then i care to admit. Some would call it meccha or the hub of civilization, i just called it breakfast. It always seemed like a good idea to go to Cafe Du Monde. No matter what time of day, whenever we would walk by or actually stop and get a table, the place was packed. It was open 24 hours a day, which i guess isn't that uncommon for doughnuts and coffee. But the beignets were delicious and the coffee (when you asked for it black) was strong enough to give you extra sensory perception. So in that respect, this so-called coffee shop was more than the sum of it's parts.
The tables were all packed underneath an overhanging patio, and the countless waiters and waitresses navigated the cramped quarters like rats in a warren. As they nonchalantly hauled trays precariously piled high with brimming cups of scalding coffee and saucers of snow capped beignets, i waited for the loud crash of chipped china hitting concrete, but to no avail. This place was a well oiled machine, albeit a idiosyncratic machine of many rusty parts. The actual beignet production process was pretty seamless too (so seamless in fact that they provided a viewing window through which to witness the action). They ran the dough through a sheeter and then through a cutter and more casual than i thought was acceptable, the cook threw the raw beignet dough, probably 12 at a clip, into a huge deep fryer with a splash of skin-melting magma characteristic of Hawaii's Mount Kilauea.
It defied reason how this operation sustained itself over the decades. But i guess when a system works, there's no reason to fix it.
Somehow, those little squares of dough made it out of the gauntlet in pristine condition and after being dumped with powdered sugar, they were ushered out to their awaiting public. They were neither greasy nor were they cold. Each a little pillow of fluffy delicious i can only dream about late at night when the hankering for fried dough creeps into my subconscious.
It was a perfect introduction to the tourist experience in New Orleans. It was also the perfect way to share some time with some newly made friends. Mark Carter, Lisa Slater, and Aimee Bariteau were the first of my Culinary Corps compatriots that i had the pleasure of meeting. We all had doughnuts on the brain and met up before the volunteer work officially began to share or mutual love of all things fried. We discussed the work ahead of us and talked about our lives back home, all through mouthfuls of hot beignet and milk flavored coffee. (Or was it coffee flavored milk?) These early relationships were what served as the foundation for the entire trip. A bunch of food freaks weaving a common thread through an uncertain experience, making the best of a situation by consuming the comforts of a city renowned for its cuisine. We truly were about to embark on something magical, and if these were the quality of people that i would be working with for the next week, i was one of the luckiest people in the Big Easy.
Cafe Du Monde was more than a cafe, it was a state of mind. I believed it served as a gateway for visitors to enter the reality of an actual New Orleanian. Having that chicory coffee coursing through your system, inhaling the cloud of powdered sugar as it's aspirated into the air by other first time beigners, absorbing the constant din of chatter, brass instruments, and commerce that filled the atmosphere. These things, like an aperture of a camera, helped bring the true experience of NOLA into focus, capturing the essence of its uniqueness with each sugary mouthful of beignet and each swallow of milky coffee.
Now was it milk-flavored coffee OR coffee-flavored milk? What do ya'll think? Let me know.
-GDP
milk flavored coffee. i only say this because rhode islands 'state beverage' is coffee milk, which is milk with coffee syrup. its a big deal, seriously.
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