Never Turn Down The Last Beignet

My family and I were at a farmer’s market this Sunday. I was able to break away to visit a bakery stall, and I spotted a very familiar item.

“Is that a beignet?” I asked the lady behind the counter.

“Yes, the last one!” she responded.

On learning that it was raspberry, and the last one that she had, I purchased it. And since lunch wouldn’t be for about half an hour, I started gobbling it. Raspberry jam and powdered sugar mixed together with the dough, and it made for a perfect sweet and sour taste. I finished it up, and felt lucky to have grabbed the last one.

Beignets always make me think of calmer times. They are essentially deep-fried pieces of dough, usually with a filling. New Orleans beignets are square and often airy, while doused in powdered sugar. French beignets are round like doughnut holes.

My university would host a farmer’s market every Wednesday, when I was a student. It had a bakery that would sell the French style of beignets. The beignets came either with chocolate or fruit filling, and they would just melt in the mouth. I would go between classes, sometimes before orchestra practice, to pick one up in undergrad. No matter what happened, I could rely on that beignet to cheer up my day.

It was nice to see a good memory flutter towards me, of a time that was peaceful. Beignets make me think of sunny days and lawns. They also remind me of rushing to orchestra to set up my instrument, and logging into computers at the university library. I’d make a beeline for the graphic novel section, and read the newest books. An academic treatise helped me discover love for Satoshi Kon, and special collections showed letters from the Victorian era.

We do what we can to keep our happy memories close to us. Sometimes an item like a beignet can help. You just need that light dough, and a flavorful filling. That’s why you never turn down the less beignet, if you have the means.

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