Wednesday, February 4, 2009

My people will be so proud


We try and eat healthy around here. I mean, I don't go overboard. Today I bought Shepherd some Scooby Doo Yoplait even though the second ingredient was sugar and the third was high fructose corn syrup, which in case you did not know, is mined and refined in a factory smack dab in the middle of hell. So they say. But those was a special treat.

Usually I stick to as much organic as possible, only brown rice and whole grains blah blah blah.

Occasionally, some things override health. I make exceptions for things that will encourage my children to experience culture.

Like escargot. (That was a joke. Hahaha.)

I mean, our own culture, which would be Deepest Eastest Texas. And by my people's food I mean chicken fried steak. Fried okra. Grits with a pound of butter. Black eyed peas with saltback to season the pot liquor. Cornbread made with real bacon grease that your momma keeps on the cabinet shelf. Blue Bell ice cream and sticky pecan pie (and that's pronounced paCON, btw).

My children eat all that glory on a regular basis - except for grits. I am ashamed to say, I missed the age threshold for grits somehow. When I finally made them, Maggie and Ike gobbled away, but Shep and Eva Rose turned their noses up. Whereupon I collapsed in a heap on the kitchen floor, crying, "My children! My children! I've ruined them!!"

I swore right then that, with God as my witness, I will never have a grits experience again.

There was one more extreme delicacy that is so very important to my people, but I had not given to them yet. (Mainly because they have been on very few roadtrips.)

I walked in the valley of the shadow of grits rejection. I knew the clock was ticking.

This morning I saw the bag at the grocery store - on sale - and thought, hmmmm. Could today be The Day?

Indeed...indeed. Today was The Day.

I gathered my precious offspring around, and introduced them to what I know will become a dear friend:


This friend actually will be consumed on only special occasions, I explained. Usually a tank of gas, some beef jerkey, and a moon pie will share the bill. But she will wait patiently in the Quick Food Mart until you beckon her. She remains faithful.

The children tasted, and declared that it was good. All four of them crunched and crunched and asked for more.

And I breathed a sigh of cultural relief.

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