Between ages 18-20 I lived in New Orleans. I went to college at UNO and worked full-time at the Ann Taylor at Lakeside Mall. When I started working there, the mall had just shut down the Daiquiri shop due to too many irate husbands getting into fights with their wives at the mall. Alcohol often brings out the worst in people.
I loved New Orleans. I still do. The people I met there were some of the best people I could have ever been around. That group of men and women who worked at the Ann Taylor: they were like brothers and sisters to me. They were my parents, since my own parents were 10 hours away. They were my good, good friends.
This was before people got into using email, and this was way before something called MySpace and Facebook took over our lives. So these people, I no longer know them. And that saddens me, and also, it’s OK too. They were in my life when I needed them the most.
The music and the food and the culture of New Orleans: I absolutely loved it. I always will. Dancing in the streets, lazy weekends, dinner parties, walking down the road to get your cafe au lait and coming back dripping in sweat, singing along to your neighbor’s stereo filled with the sounds of Dr. John on piano. It was truly, truly a great time and a great city to live in. This was way before Katrina and all the destruction and devastation by nature and some could-be careless engineering.
I think about this time of my life a lot, because it truly was a great time. The ages of 18-20, they teach us a lot about ourselves. I am grateful for those years of growth and I will always be grateful for those in my life who pushed me to grow and pushed me to not settle. When I left corporate America in 2016, that was on my mind, a lot. Being around people who were aware, who questioned the norm, who discussed important topics: these were the people I wanted in my life. I looked around and saw very few of these people, and so I left. I changed course, and I’m getting closer and closer every day to the girl I was at 18, the girl happily dancing in the streets of New Orleans, the girl staying up late talking about the pollution in and on our bodies and the quality of the water we drink and the respect we show to the people and animals around us. The girl who wrote poetry and fiction, the girl who listened to really good music and the girl who spoke up when injustices occurred. That girl.
Those years were also incredibly hard for me. I dated an alcoholic pot head, and when I say pot head, I mean: sun up to sun down, he got high. He hid bottles of alcohol in his car, in mine, in his apartment, in mine, in his baggy pants, everywhere. It was always nearby, just in case. I never knew the real side of him, because he was always, always high. He didn’t work, couldn’t keep a job, dropped out of college, stole money from me, stole money from his mom. He’d had a shitty childhood, raised by an abusive, non-loving father, and a completely unaware mother, like so many men my age experienced. He didn’t know how to handle it, so he turned to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain. And I was his girlfriend, stood by his side, no matter what. Until I woke up.
Thankfully, I had hard friends back then. Friends who were much older. Friends who I trusted. My boss at Ann Taylor had some of the most wicked fun parties ever imagined. Think dancing and dressing up in your finest yet most fun attire, music by brass bands and the best food and drinks that could ever be tasted by your lips. Think balmy nights and patios lit up with twinkle lights and laughter til 3 a.m. Think sharing conversations with people about Salvador Dali and Ralph Nader and Cesar Chavez. Those kind of parties.
I never took that boyfriend to these parties, because he would arrive high, and be awkward, and want to leave early, and complain about my friends. So I went without him, always.
At one such party, my boss Larry took me aside and said, Jennifer, there are people in this life who are givers and people who are receivers. You, my dear, are a giver. And someday, you will find a giver to settle down with.
Oh, Larry, wherever you are, I send you love. Those words, my dear friend, I have carried them with me ever since.
A few months later I left New Orleans for good, left that boyfriend, and unfortunately left my friends behind. I moved back to Dallas, transferred colleges, and years later, met and fell in love with my husband, a giver.
Mardi Gras is next week. I hated Mardi Gras when I lived there. I wanted the swarms of tourists to go away. I wanted my cafes to settle back down and I wanted all the drunk frat boys to go back to LSU and Ole Miss and FSU. I wanted peace again in my quaint little city.
These days, I celebrate Mardi Gras, because I don’t live there any more and probably never will again. I celebrate for my friends who I knew back then and I celebrate for that time of life when I began to awaken. I celebrate for Larry and Grainne and Veronica and Dave and Jay and Patti and all the incredible people I worked with at Ann Taylor: my family for a few short years. I celebrate for growth and for looking back on this life and knowing that this insane path led me here. I celebrate for the city I love, the city of culture and of light, and of dark.
And I celebrate with you, by sharing the gift of food. Something that people in New Orleans know how to do oh so well.
These beignets are vegan, and they are baked, not fried. They are not like traditional beignets. You will have to go to New Orleans for those.
Love,
Jen.
Vegan Beignets + Lessons from New Orleans
Ingredients
- 3/4 c. warm water
- 1 tsp. active dry yeast
- 1 tbsp. flax, ground
- 1/3 c. natural cane sugar
- 1/2 tsp. salt
- 1/2 c. coconut milk, full fat
- 3 and 1/2 c. bread flour
- 4 tbsp. vegan butter, divided
- powdered sugar
Instructions
- In a large bowl, combine the water and yeast and set aside for 5-10 minutes until yeast dissolves.
- Meanwhile, in a small bowl, combine the flax and 3 tbsp. warm water, whisk, set aside, whisking every few minutes until flax thickens.
- Divide the coconut milk: spoon out the solid milk and the white colored liquid from the top of the can. The lighter colored liquid you can pour out or use for a different recipe.
- Add the sugar, salt, coconut milk and flax to the yeast, and stir well.
- Slowly add the flour, one cup at a time, until combined.
- Melt 2 tbsp. butter and mix it into the dough.
- Spray a large bowl with coconut or another oil spray.
- Place the dough onto a flat surface and knead for 2 minutes. Then place the dough into the prepared bowl, cover with a clean towel, and set aside to rise for 2 hours.
- Heat the oven to 350 degrees.
- Remove the dough from the bowl and place onto a floured surface. Roll out the dough to 1/4" thickness. Using a pizza cutter, slice the dough into 1-1.5" squares.
- Place the beignets on baking pans covered with parchment paper, and bake for 12 minutes.
- Remove the beignets from the oven. Melt the remaining 2 tbsp. butter brush the top of the beignets with the butter. Sprinkle the powdered sugar on top, and enjoy! Beignets will keep in a tightly covered container for 3 days.