Day One Twenty Three: Biblical Beignets

There's a Cajun restaurant down the street from my house that sells delicious beignets.  Once a month or so, we change out of our pajamas and stroll down the street to buy some. These little pastries are like kiddie crack:  my children can't get enough of them.  Between my kids and husband, they approach a plate of beignets like a biblical plague of locusts.  So as a treat for them, I decided to make Martha's Beignets.

I was really excited about these beignets.  As I mentioned before, I'm from Louisiana.  Beignets are in my blood.  I've spent many a morning at Cafe du Monde in the French Quarter eating my weight in beignets with a chicory coffee chaser.  As a testament, I was going to cook the heck out of these beignets.  Knock them out of the proverbial ballpark. People far and wide would hear about my beignets and make breathless requests for breakfast.  My beignets would become family lore and my grandchildren will reverently mention them at my funeral.  Make that my great-grandchildren. (I intend to live a very long time.)  

Unfortunately, these beignets didn't realize that I'm a Beignet Goddess in the making.  The dough would not cooperate.  Martha rolls the dough and cuts out neat circles.  I was forced to pull bits of it apart to make the beignets.  I blame the stupid humid weather.  While the resulting beignets were far from perfect, they were still delicious.  Actually, my husband said they were "not bad", but he ate at least six, so his apathy doesn't count.  

The best evidence that these beignets were lip-smackin good?  Remember what I said about the biblical plague of locusts?  The only thing left after breakfast were empty plates.