Lucile and Pearl.
Sound like your great aunts, don’t they? Just as sweet, I’d bet, but without any funky cheek pinching.
I’m talking Lucile’s. Lucile’s. Those of you who live around here had best know Lucile’s. If not, stop reading and go. Go. I never knew Creole cookin’ was so dang yummy until about five years ago. It’s our go-to spot now, especially when people we love are in town. The downside? There’s always a helluva long wait. (Hank’s dad, there below. Um…notice any resemblance here? Anyone?)
Top 10 reasons to love Lucile’s.
1. They have things like Eggnog Pancakes and eggs pontchartrain. Just tell me where else in God’s snowy state of Colorado could you wake up one morning and have that just roll off the tongue?
2. There is a butter-cinnamony syrup there that is served with French Toast that…is…heavenly goodness bottled up and served warm. Ask for it right away and pour it on everything: biscuits, biegnets, your hand and slurp it right from your palm. (Holden, by the way, has just lost his first tooth. I think we’ll be seeing this Weird Holden Face a lot from now on.)
3. Speaking of biscuits, these are more like a morning cake. They’re baked in a pan as big as my house and cut up into biscuits the size of a salad plate. (My sister-in-law, Claudia, couldn’t believe the size of these biscuits. Legendary.)
4. The chicory coffee. Smooth as can be and never bitter.
5. Hot chocolate. Served piled with lotso whipped cream and dusted with fresh nutmeg.
6. Freshly squeezed orange juice, complete with floating seeds that mesmerize five year olds. And for toddlers? They actually have sippy cups. No juggling the lids-and-straws fiasco here, thank you very much.
7. The charm of a creaky, lopsided, added-onto-house that makes no sense in its organization except that you actually can fit 11 people semi-comfortably on a small porch, give them homemade napkins and beignets, and everyone is kept blissfully happy.
8. Their ketchup. Homemade. Spicy. Available for purchase. We did. Twice.
9. Waitresses with the funkiest stripedy knee socks ever. Want some.
10. Hank’s Eggs. Oh come on. Anything named “Hank” is worth trying a bite of. :)
Post-Lucile’s and heavy into our food coma, we decided to wander around Pearl Street ISO the Patagonia store. Always a worthy stop, that place. However, one must not frequent a spot that one might have a hard time keeping one’s wallet in one’s pocket/purse. Ewan and I loitered about just outside, where small brick ledges became an extremely fun sporting event.
By the time we caught up with the rest of the crew, Ewan needed a rest. And Hank decided it was time for some really good parenting of the other one.
Of course, Ewan was not to be left out.
And then neither was Holden.
Then Ewan again.
I probably don’t even have to mention the odd looks from passerby that occurred. Especially when I was also nearly laying on the ground trying to take pictures and laughing with the boys.
But of course, all good things come to an end, and right about now was that time. Time for a little person’s siesta, time to sneak away for some last minute super secret gift purchases, and time to get ready for the arrival of Santa.
Wish I knew how to sign off Creole style. Maybe I’ll just pinch some of these cheeks, instead.
Orevwa. (Ha. Googled it.)