It’s been a long, long time since I fried up beignets. As always, the first attempt yesterday morning resulted in four much-too-dark doughnuts, but the batches after that were perfect and by 10:00 am Michael and I had a liberal dusting of powdered sugar on our fronts.

Beignets have to be eaten immediately. The cookbook said they could be kept in a warm oven for a while, but that turned out to be false. I tried it yesterday and when I opened the oven a half hour later found only dried up brown husks. Since they must also be made in bulk, it was no great loss.

The large bowl of dough in the fridge will be good for another five days. Michael has already carried a few to our downstairsneighbor and I hope some of the others in the building will want some.

If Michael and I eat the whole thing I picture us both as transformed into two beignets ourselves by the end of the week, doughy, pale, covered with sugar and gently rounded at the edges.

Yesterday was a day of writing and cooking — writing in the first part, then starting in the afternoon the always slow construction of the chicken pot pie I’d promised Michael. The wind picked up by dark, and rain pattered overhead. When I opened the window, the air was cool, moist, and fragrant.

Another week of work begins.