Bread Puddin.

I just got back from spending a few days down in the Big Easy.  The French Quarter was great as usual, but there was always one thing that followed me like the plague.  Bread puddin.  No, not bread pudding–bread puddin.  It is EVERYWHERE.  Needless to say, not a big fan.  I looks like goobers covered in snot sauce.  I would be enjoying a perfectly delectable seafood dish when the waitress would swoop back to our table and ask us if we wanted bread puddin for dessert.  Um, NO.  I was hosting a dinner at a local restaurant, which I let them chose the dessert.  More bread puddin.  I actually considered trying it this time as it looked like it had some consistency, but still the snot sauce.  I still took a pass.  Everyone else scarfed it down like it was a delectable Swiss chocolate cake.  I walk down by Cafe du Monde, enjoying my tasty beignets.  I stroll a little farther–a bread puddin shop.  I can’t escape it! Ahhhhh!!  The goobers are following me!  At least in Missouri there is not so much bread puddin!