The Japanese Cafe Du Monde is Real

Posted on December 13, 2010December 13, 2010 by Varg

Nobody ever believes me when I tell them there are a chain of Cafe Du Mondes in Japan and they sell stuff like hot dogs with scrambled eggs on them and beignets with fruity sauces…

So here it is… CafeDumonde.jp

And here’s that hot dog with egg on it…

9 thoughts on “The Japanese Cafe Du Monde is Real”

alli says:

December 13, 2010 at 9:32 am

Yes! I saw one in Tokyo five years ago, but didn’t stop in to check out the menu. That hot dog looks, uh, interesting.
alli says:

December 13, 2010 at 9:35 am

Oh my god, translate the pages into English. It’s priceless. “What’s chicory? Secret of the taste of coffee, “chicory” I’ll tell you about.” “Continued commitment to cafe au lait and beignet, pretending to return 140 years of history.”
Varg says:

December 13, 2010 at 10:45 am

“pretending to return 140 years of history” sounds like an attempt at shabby chic. reminds me of when San Diego decided they wanted something like the French Quarter so they created this thing called the Gaslamp Quarter. Even though there were no gaslamps in it’s history.

I would totally eat that hot dog if even the least bit buzzed.
Ryan Waldron says:

December 13, 2010 at 11:10 am

The Japanese CDM has a better webpage than the one here.
jeffrey says:

December 13, 2010 at 2:17 pm

Oh but the “Bacon-cheese pie” You know want one. I want one right now. I may go down to the parent location in the Quarter with a picture of it and demand that they prepare one on the spot.
rickacrossdariver says:

December 13, 2010 at 7:44 pm

books-san.

luck good to you.

i doubt pork delicious will cross decatur palette.

three bows to you.

gentilly-san
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Varg says:

December 14, 2010 at 9:06 am

There’s always a chance pork delicious will cross decatur palette.
rickacrossdariver says:

December 15, 2010 at 6:14 pm

you a trip dawg : )

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Rejoice!

I say that a lot. I sign many pieces with it. I do this because I believe our lives are a true happenstance. A brilliant occurence from nothingness. We are so rare. We are so unlikely. And simply being born isn’t enough. From there we must survive, endure. So each morning, after our Sun departs and is reborn again. Please, for the sake of your ancestors and the Universe in general, hoist that cup of joe up and say, “Rejoice.”

Ours is a soulful existence. No matter how many McMansions, polyester fabrics, auto-tunes, modified foods and social networks we surround ourselves with, we are all still native, passionate beings made of ancient matter. We are organic and we have soul.

Wood also has a warm, soulful quality. Wood has a memory. It retains smells, traumas, events. It even has a calendar. This is why I have chosen it as my medium, for its old soul. I like to think the wood in my work is in its third incarnation. First a tree, then a home and now art. If you have a room that needs a little soul, get a piece. A room can never have enough soul.

My inspiration and subject matter comes from many sources, among them: Humanism, old ballads, trickster tales, flora and fauna, science, myths and folklore, stringed instruments, brass bands, amber spirits, lady vocalists, general relativity and quantum mechanics. Some of my pieces are there just to make a short, simple statement about what’s important in life. Some are more diffuse and abstract in meaning. A personal drama, an enduring line from a poem or novel, a poignant song lyric, the legacy of an important person, a fleeting thought … these are the subjects of my art.

I use hearts often because they are a very abstract way of depicting the human soul without also employing the very subjective human form. The symbolic heart is an apt representation for a person’s experience and essence. A body can immediatly conjure happiness, sorrow, youth, age, anger, bliss. These emotions can get in the way. Sometimes it’s simply about the experience.

I am the son of a sailor and a social worker, the grandson of a gypsy, a dancer and a nurse. I spent my youth moving from port city to port city, watching a lot of road go by and reading World Book Encyclopedia. After my parents settled down on the Gulf Coast, I was a miscreant youth, destroying cars and taking the wrongs things too seriously and the right things not serious enough. Eventually I began replacing my imagination with experience.

I will use any salvaged wood but prefer swamp cypress and longleaf heartwood pine.

I despise waste. Particularly the waste of organic matter. Trees are magnificent. They were here before we arrived and they’ll be around after we are gone. I’m making an effort to save as much wood as possible. Creating art is fun too. But beyond communicating with folks, but beyond making money ad providing for myself, beyond rescuing flooded parts, beyond reveling in the ethereal aroma of heartpine that hasn’t seen the light of day in 400 years, beyond all that, I am trying to make a simple comment on waste.