Musings from a servantless, stay-at-home, cooking-obsessed mom
Collards, black-eyed peas and cornbread. All in one! (With some sausage in the mix, just because.) We ate this all day yesterday- health, wealth and good luck, all wrapped into a casserole dish. Convenient!
In the middle of a nondescript block of East McNeese Street in Lake Charles, LA, stands Nelson's Donuts. Nelson's is an institution. During my childhood, Tastee Donuts and Nelson's were the spots we frequented most; Tastee was good and its location was more convenient, but it never touched Nelson's. And while Tastee shuttered its drive-thru many years ago, Nelson's continues to thrive.
The sign is new, a slight update to the one I grew up looking out for as Mom, or later friends and I, drove towards the brick-red-roofed building. Gal pals and I spent many a post-slumber party morning tricking our fatigue with the sugar rush of a warm, freshly glazed dozen. Elia, Mom and I often went for an early weekend breakfast, and now, the boys insist that a trip to Nelson's be one of our first activities upon arriving in Lake Charles.
Nelson's is open seven days a week, from 5am to noon. As Tom and Jack were immersed in a spirited game of Chinese Checkers, Ol and I made the Nelson's run this morning. We arrived at 7:45, and, per the usual at that time, the drive-thru line snaked into the street (drivers not headed to Nelson's go around without complaint). We took the last lot spot, and Ol flew to the window, eager to place our order.
The smell of hot grease, yeasted dough and sugary glaze envelops you as you approach the counter. Even if you swear you're not hungry, you will find yourself ordering a donut or two for yourself and later regretting that you didn't get more. I made that rookie mistake this morning and have rued it ever since.
Jack had requested two strawberry-filleds, one cinnamon twist, some donut holes and a chocolate-glazed. Ol chose a chocolate-glazed bedecked with sprinkles, donut holes, a cinnamon twist and an eclair. We got a French Market (like a beignet) too, just because. Ol sucked down his cinnamon twist before we reached home, and I poached a bite of J's strawberry-filled and Tom's chocolate-glazed.
I have eaten many a donut all over America, including those from vaunted spots like Voodoo Doughnuts in Portland and Dough in Brooklyn. Those from Dough were magnificent, and yes, a Krispy Kreme is good when a fix must be sated. But there's something perfect about donuts from Nelson's. They don't try to be anything but delicious, consistently so, and they are. Nothing fancy, nothing silly, no soupçon or drizzle of anything you really didn't want anyway. They're just wonderful, and we're already looking forward to a big, messy, sugary box next time we're here.
Today I continued to clean, this time my closet, unearthing more treasures and discarding two additional bags of memorial detritus. I mean really, who needs a Vine Line circa 1993 (the monthly newspaper for Cubs' fans)? Despite my fan-atic ardor for Ryne Sandberg, I no longer feel the need to dedicate closet space to Street & Smiths, Sports Illustrateds and so forth. Not to mention seemingly every Daily Northwestern published between 1994 and 1998. After many hours, it seemed a positive idea to leave the house, and so Tom and I went to Top Five, the new Chris Rock movie (how charming is Chris Rock, I ask you?! Good film overall. Not great but entertaining. Rosario Dawson was quite good.) while my parents and the boys went to Night at the Museum 3.
Once home, I made a delicious salad comprised of various bitter elements. These appeal to me greatly, but T lacks the bitter-enjoying gene and ate a minimum of this beauty.
Endive, radicchio, pomelo, blood orange, goat cheese and a shallot-white balsamic vinaigrette. I thought it was the cat's meow, especially when paired with fresh bread and leftover barbecue shrimp.
The boys wandered in, happy but totally gaga, and we hurried them up to bed. Dad, aka Poppy, had promised that tonight would be the boys-in-a-bed slumber party, and look what I just found: precious!
I am certain that Dad's arm will not function tomorrow, AND I cannot believe (although I can) that Oliver insisted on and convinced the others that Cheetah and friend should join the bed. It's not that big!
Now off to bed with a marvelous rainstorm alternating between thump and pat outside.
musings from a stay-at-home, cooking-obsessed mom
Subscribe by email:
Or, you may also
subscribe by RSS:
Contact Emily by email: