I love beignet mornings at Louisiana Flair.
Everyone coming in the door has that expectant look on their face, the one that says, "Oh, boy, fried dough and blueberry sauce!"
Everyone leaving has traces of confectioner's sugar on their lips or chin or shirt. Three kids at the front table today had big white rings around their mouths, evidence of beignets enjoyed in large bites.
A guy came to get some juice from the cold case next to me and held the door open a bit longer than necessary.
"I should hold it open like that all day," he told me laughing. "Wouldn't you like that?" Yes, I would.
Of course, I could have picked a seat further from the beignet-frying, but I get too much pleasure watching the trays of endless dough balls dwindle as they are dropped into the hot oil and come out golden brown.
My only complaint with beignet Wednesday is getting there before the dough is all gone.And with Nate about to close up shop for good, I intended to get there while there was still dough.
I'd made plans to meet a friend there at 9:30 today, because Nate had reminded me that they almost always run out by 10:00.
And I don't get up at the crack of nine only to be disappointed.
No, my satisfaction comes from going from beignets to a meeting and having the guy I'm interviewing greet me by telling me there's something white on my cheek.
And maybe that's slightly better than having him tell me there's a dribble of blue on my chin.
Just one of the hazards of a Wednesday interview.