King Cake

From Twelfth Night until Fat Tuesday, you cannot walk into a Louisiana home, office, or church hall without finding one of these on the table. King cake is more than dessert. It's how we count down to Mardi Gras, one sweet slice at a time.

The tradition goes back centuries, brought to New Orleans by French and Spanish settlers who celebrated the Epiphany with sweetened bread. That little plastic baby hidden inside? Whoever finds it in their slice brings the next cake. I've seen grown men break teeth trying to be the one. At Lagniappe, we go through two hundred of these between January and February. People line up before we open.

My grandmother Evangeline made hers with a touch of nutmeg and lemon zest. She said the old Acadian bakers knew that a rich dough needs brightness to balance it. The cinnamon sugar filling came later, an American addition that I happen to think improves on tradition. The colors (purple for justice, green for faith, gold for power) turn a simple bread into something ceremonial. That's the bayou way: we make beauty out of everyday things.