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