Patricia Lockhart – Page 3

Everyone knows that Memphis has a rich history. And its history of voodoo runs deep. From Voodoo Village(1) to spiritual shops nestled in neighborhoods all around (if only you know where to look), the name Mojo City still rings true. This night, I partook in voodoo of a sweeter variety. But my rage, well, it was an unexpected surprise.

Voodoo Cafe, located in Bartlett, has been serving up sweet little beignet voodoo dolls for over a year. I opted to get a traditional beignet first. It was sprinkled with sweet powdered sugar. Well, sprinkled isn’t the best word. They are absolutely avalanched in powdered sugar. I took a quick look around, just to survey the other practitioners. Some people were eating their beignets with a fork. It brought me back to a time in high school biology class when I dissected a little piglet. Shaking the image out of my head, I picked up my little man, stretched my mouth wide, and took a bite. Viciously and without mercy, I ripped the head off with my teeth. Why? Well, because that’s just the type of girl I am. But I must warn you: When you bite down on a traditional beignet, do … not … breathe. If you allow one tiny exhale to escape your lips, you are guaranteed to get powdered sugar everywhere. Not that I care, but in case any “professionals” don’t want to get their hands dirty.

And if powdered sugar doesn’t tickle your fancy, they have a variety of flavors that are sure to delight even your darkest pleasures. While I thoroughly enjoyed the traditional beignet, I couldn’t say no to the Witch Doctor. It’s a beignet topped with spiced apples with a caramel drizzle. This treat is truly hypnotizing. (Yes, I ate two. Who in their right mind would eat only one?)

One day, I might be brave and try the Dead Elvis (peanut butter, banana, honey, and bacon), Grave Expectations (marshmallow fluff and crushed Oreos), The Yeti (sweet cream and shredded coconut), and Black Magic (Nutella). Not all in one sitting. I plan on standing up to reset between each beignet.

Coffee apparently pairs well with beignets. My Drank(2) was the Guji Mane Remix. It’s brewed with the Guji Mane coffee from Memphis’ own Cxffeeblack. Trust me, this is a collaboration you must experience. Although the Guji Mane coffee is delicious served black, I can appreciate Voodoo’s Remix. They add chocolate and raspberry to it! Yum.

After getting a tasteful alignment from Voodoo Cafe, I was ready to release a little bit of rage. The Rage Room, Craze, is located conveniently close to Voodoo Cafe in Bartlett. (Suspish.) We signed in and slipped on our protective gear. They had rap music bumping through the speakers. I was getting hype, hype! I was talking to myself like, “Yeah! I’m finna break some stuff.” I legit thought I was about to “Set. It. Off.” up there. But I knew I was in trouble when I picked up the sledgehammer. Y’all! It’s heavy. The movies and home renovation channels make it look so easy.

So I decided to switch tactics. I gently laid down the sledgehammer and picked up a bat. This junt was heavy, too! It was nothing like the bat that my son used in his peewee sports. This was a metal bat, and it felt suspiciously like it was filled with concrete. I looked around for something lighter. There was nothing. My hubby reminded me that the goal was to break stuff, not play around, so I picked up a glass mug and I swung. Have you ever heard something metal colliding with glass? It’s loud. Like really loud. I jumped and thanked God that I had already peed before. (Or else my night would have ended then.) While my husband wielded the sledgehammer and broke stuff like a mad man, I secretly wondered, “Who has this much rage?” I began to doubt my decision, until my husband brought out a typewriter. It was so very satisfying to watch the keys fly through the air as the sledgehammer landed. I shattered it into a million pieces. Then I demolished a TV, a monitor, a glass bowl, some plates, and more glass trinkets. My hubby turned a metal file cabinet into scraps and broke a desk in half with just one swing. Huffing and puffing, I looked at my watch. It had only been 13 minutes! We raged until we couldn’t rage anymore. And I smiled the entire time.

This is just one of the reasons why I love my Boyfriend Memphis. I can regale in Memphis’ history while eating a sweet treat and end my night safely releasing some stress. Gotta love it, mane!

Book the Craze Rage Room at crazememphis.com; learn more about Voodoo Cafe at voodoocafebartlett.com.

Definitions:

1 Voodoo Village (n.) — Saint Paul Spiritual Holy Temple in Southeast Memphis

2 Drank (n.) — It’s like a drink, but better and with more emphasis and respect

Patricia Lockhart is a native Memphian who loves to read, write, cook, and eat. Her days are filled with laughter with her four kids and charming husband. By day, she’s a school librarian and a writer, but by night … she’s alseep. @realworkwife @memphisismyboyfriend

Have you ever been to a restaurant and were just sitting there minding your own business? No? Well, me neither! I stay ear-hustling1 to everyone around me.

One night, a friend and I were celebrating everything, and at the same time absolutely nothing, at the Hen House Wine Bar on S. Mendenhall. Although we made reservations, we found the bar to be much more inviting. I promise this had nothing to do with the barmen Matt and Patrick, but … if you know, you know. The way they shake the cocktails is mesmerizing.

I decided to start the night off with the cocktail, Hound Dog Unleashed. It is made with Blue Note Bourbon whiskey, which is crafted right here in Memphis. When you start a night with anything made by Memphis, you know you have to sip and savor. And that’s exactly what I did. I nursed this cocktail for most of the night. Trying to chug it would have left me thinking my lemon-pepper-steppers were blue suede shoes walking on the cobblestones Downtown. My friend started her night off with a gorgeous glass of red wine. And if you’re into wine, this is the place to be. (Duh?! It has “Wine Bar” in the name.) They even offer wine flights! The next time I go, which will be soon, I’m going to get one of those to un-share2.

What started out as a date with Memphis ended in a salacious affair with Brussels sprouts. (Photo: Patricia Lockhart, Betsy Spring)

For our appetizer, we both decided to go with the Brussels sprouts. You know, we gotta get our greens in because veggies are important. These greens were fried on Mount Olympus by the personal head chef of Zeus and drizzled with sweet hot honey nectar of the forbidden fruit. (Lifts hands in praise!) These are the best Brussels sprouts I have ever had. I don’t know how something can be crispy and succulent at the same time, but the chef did that! We also had the Brie with poached pears, honey, and sourdough bread. Needless to say, we sent back a happy plate3. Yum!

Because we weren’t sure if we were in love with the sprouts or if it was just an infatuation, we thought it would be best to try them again. Trust me, nothing is worse than falling head over heels for something only to realize that the love was fleeting and circumstantial. But alas, they did not disappoint. It is safe to say that I will begin a mildly unhealthy situation-ship, or obsession, with Hen House’s Brussels sprouts.

Via ear-hustling, I discovered that the ladies next to us ordered the poutine. It’s a bowl of fries, topped with braised beef and cheese curds in a red wine and mushroom gravy. In my attempt not to eye-hustle as well as ear-hustle, I just stared out of my peripheral. These ladies were eating this dish with a gusto and audible moaning. Yes, audible moaning. So you know this was good, good!

When our food arrived, I noticed the people at the table behind me to the left do the look, point, and whisper. I said to myself, “Yeah, I know you want this. But it’s mine, allllllll mine.” I ordered the local beef cut with puréed cauliflower. Bless the whole cow who sacrificed themselves so I could eat such a divine piece of meat. The meat was so tender and flavorful. I had inner battles whether to eat the meat by itself or use it to sop up some of the puréed cauliflower. Which was equally delicious and soul-watering4. I wish I could give you more information about the fried chicken sandwich my friend ordered, but I was so caught up in my own heavenly experience, I couldn’t ear-hustle properly.

After a great meal, my friend and I retired to our cars to witness a truly hilarious end to our date with Memphis. Instead of reversing out of their parking spot, some of our fellow diners decided to drive forward. Over the shrubbery, over the sidewalk, and straight onto Mendenhall. But they didn’t drive away. Instead they circled back to the very same parking lot that they took an illegal exit from.

Gotta love Memphis, mane!

1 ear-hustling (v.): listening and being nosy to every conversation around you.

2 un-share (v.): the intention of sharing with someone, but deciding against it.

3 happy plate (adj.): a plate that is happy because all the food has been consumed off of it.

4 soul-watering (adj.): something that is good to all your senses and your soul!