{"id":1753,"date":"2005-04-17T19:16:00","date_gmt":"2005-04-17T19:16:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2005\/04\/17\/9-am-sunday-bubbling-oil-and-beignets"},"modified":"2015-09-24T03:54:24","modified_gmt":"2015-09-24T03:54:24","slug":"9-am-sunday-bubbling-oil-and-beignets","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2005\/04\/9-am-sunday-bubbling-oil-and-beignets\/","title":{"rendered":"9 am Sunday: bubbling oil and beignets"},"content":{"rendered":"
After a few weeks\u2019 hiatus, it\u2019s high time that I recommitted myself to what has clearly become the celestial purpose of Orangette: making <\/strong>Jim<\/strong><\/a>my<\/strong><\/a> famous<\/strong>. He may be the gay husband of my former employer Rebecca, but he\u2019s also much more, and that\u2019s where I come in. My commitment to Jimmy is truly the highest of callings, a fanatical devotion to a church where a choir of deep-fryers<\/strong> sing sweetly from the altar. On the seventh day, some rest and some go to Sunday school, but I go to Jimmy\u2019s. And then I write about it.<\/p>\n This week\u2019s episode began with a rather enthusiastic e-mail from the man himself. He\u2019d been on a mission, he explained, to replicate New Orleans\u2019s classic Caf\u00e9 du Monde<\/strong><\/a> beignets<\/strong>. He\u2019d done an experimental batch on Tuesday and had another planned for Friday afternoon, and by Sunday, Jimmy promised (and I quote), there would be \u201cpowdered sugar flying everywhere!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!\u201d<\/strong> If there\u2019s a more compelling cause for using sixteen exclamation points, I\u2019ve yet to hear of it.<\/p>\n So I arrived chez Jimmy at 9 am to find Rebecca doing her nails on the couch\u2014Jimmy generously allows her to keep a small chest, full of lotions and potions and polishes, on his coffee table\u2014and Jimmy in the kitchen, slowly heating a small cauldron of oil. After the requisite Rebecca-style greeting of hugs, stroking of my off-white cashmere capelet (already on its way out, I know), and wondrously off-color remarks about my untended cuticles, I joined Jimmy next to the stove.<\/p>\n \u201cI think we may have done it this time,\u201d he said, carefully pulling back a dishtowel to reveal dozens of triangles of dough on the countertop. I poked one with my index finger. It felt light and springy to the touch, like a very small down pillow<\/strong>. This morning\u2019s recipe was the first he\u2019d found that called for proofing the yeast with warm water and sugar; previous methods had called, somewhat illogically, for the yeast to be added dry to the flour. The results had been delicious, he explained, but they\u2019d lacked a certain airiness, a balloon-like quality<\/strong> that is the mark of a true French Market beignet. There was only one way to find out how this morning\u2019s proofed variety would perform, however, and that was to start frying.<\/p>\n In matters of fat, Jimmy is clearly blessed.<\/strong> This morning he was a vision of apron-clad serenity, tongs in hand before the bubbling font. The burner of the stove, splattered with droplets of oil that glimmered under the light, glowed like a fallen halo. And most importantly, the dough began to puff divinely.<\/p>\n The first batch, as one might expect, was Rebecca\u2019s,<\/p>\n which allowed me the opportunity to watch and learn proper beignet-eating technique. And as luck would have it, not only is Rebecca a remarkably talented Pilates instructor, but she\u2019s also gifted in the art of beignet consumption<\/strong>. Proper beignets are dusted with a thick blanket of powdered sugar, and, as she explained, in order to avoid the dreaded \u201cwhite beard of shame\u201d<\/strong> one must lean forward at a hard forty-five-degree angle while eating, preferably with a bowl under the chin. Understandably confident in her beard-avoidance skills, Rebecca wasted no time in letting loose with her usual cry: \u201cJimmy, there\u2019s not enough sugar<\/a>! There\u2019s a naked corner here! Jimmy!<\/em> More sugar!\u201d<\/p>\n I adore<\/em> this woman\u2014even though she, when my bowlful of beignets was ready, made me laugh in mid-bite and thus forced a white sprinkling of shame down my pant leg.<\/p>\n But then again, when you\u2019re dealing with something as heavenly as Jimmy\u2019s beignets,<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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