Food
My favorite meal is roast beef, rice, and gravy. A gourmet cook would have a nervous breakdown attempting to please me. Simple fare suits my taste. I like plenty of fat and animal juices and salt and pepper.
I’ve heard a lot of talk about good and bad fats: as far as I’m concerned, good fats melt in your mouth; bad fats have gristle in them.
Doctors keep telling folks not to eat salt, damned fools. I discovered when I was a young fellow I’d die without lots of salt. I’d rather not die from lack of salt. Therefore, I salt then taste, not taste then salt.
Mom was a good cook: plenty of fat and animal juices and salt and pepper.
When I was growing up, moms cooked...a lot. Times have changed much for the betterment of moms. Fast food is not only fast, it’s inexpensive, and most importantly, good, and it will remain good if the government Nanny State tends to its own knitting.
Hell, I even liked the food when I was in the army for a couple of years. I was surrounded by people who constantly complained about the food. It made me wonder what they had been eating before the service. The food was plentiful, tasty, well-balanced, with all the milk one could drink. It looked a lot like the food I had been provided by Mom or by myself in college.
I can eat almost anything, almost: on the I-can’t-stand list are liver and buttermilk. On the less than desirable list is English peas. By the way, my favorite vegetable is cabbage.
The world can be divided into two groups: those who prefer rice and those who prefer potatoes. Neither tastes like much alone: both are nutritious. Load up either with good stuff, and you’ll end up with a good meal.
Personally, I’m not much of a cook. When I was in college, I cooked red beans and rice...a lot. They’re relatively easy to cook in bulk, store in a refrigerator, and heat as needed. When I visit New Orleans, this is almost always my first meal.
Years ago, I became a better than average barbecue chef. The sop, not burning the goods, and making guests wait until they are almost starving to death are the secrets of good barbecue.
The secret to cooking generally is realizing that if you start with good stuff, your chances of ending with good food is probably pretty high.
When Linda and I first married, her cooking skills were minimal: her mom apparently never allowed her to participate in preparing meals. The first time she prepared chicken that wasn’t black from over cooking, I had to ask what the heck was wrong with the chicken. She’s steadily improved through the years; she even cooks dishes which cause raves: but, most importantly, she’s never poisoned me.
Probably the most exotic dish I like is filet (made from sassafras leaves) gumbo: plenty of fats, animal juices, and salt and pepper. There’s chicken gumbo, shrimp gumbo, sausage gumbo, ground beef gumbo, okra gumbo, crawfish gumbo, rabbit gumbo, squirrel gumbo...well, you get the idea: you can make gumbo out of whatever is handy.
I like good soups and stews. Never make fun of soup by Campbells: Campbells helped me to get grown. Chili, kind of like a soup or stew, is another favorite. Did you know chili originated in San Antonio, not Mexico? The first Chili I ate was at a corner cafe where I ate after school when I was in the second grade. Boy, was it good, and it made me big enough to pass on to the third grade.
When Linda leaves me home alone for a couple of days, although she leaves plenty of stuff for me to eat along with numerous instructions, I usually end up eating cheese and crackers and milk. Lord, I can drink a lot of milk, always have, always will.
At one time, I suspected that my body was glued together by coffee, milk, and beer. Never drank many soda pops or for that matter water, still don’t. All you folks walking around with bottled water can kiss my behind.
I’m more of an eat to live guy than a live to eat guy, but some meals do make me salivate--like roast beef, rice, and gravy.
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