I’ll Have to Admit That Food is my Achilles Heel.

I’ve written several times about what we shove into our mouths to fuel our bodies, better known as food. I’ll have to admit that food is my Achilles heel. We should enjoy what we eat; however, ensure our high performance biological machines are given the optimum octane fuel it needs to run efficiently.

I was blessed as a youngster, and into my thirties, enjoying a grandmother who could cook nearly as well, as she spread love.

She masterfully fried chicken beyond compare, turned a plethora of different beans and black eyed peas into a meal to satisfy the most discerning gourmet. Mashed potatoes with gravy smooth as silk. Not to mention collard greens, kale, fresh snaps, butter beans, corn on the cob, and the list goes on and on. She also had an ace in the hole. During her young years, she lived on coastal North Carolina. Her family caught shrimp, fish, oysters, crabs (hard and soft), clams, etc., for a living.

This smorgasbord of seafood was a large part of my young life. Not only were we able to obtain fresh ocean edibles, my grandmother with great skill would prepare these delicacies.

Changing the subject to who cooked what, I segue to my father who had a taste for some of the finer foods to be had. He loved lobster and even though this dish was seldom had, when that rare occasion came, it was a taste sensation to behold. We each would receive a mug of butter, a lobster tail, home cut French fries and long sesame rolls. The bread was meant to dip in the sauce created by the melding of butter and lobster. Dad was also a steak lover. When we dined on beef, we ate Delmonico’s. In today’s vernacular, Ribeye’s, and always eaten rare by my father . . . me, I’m more of a medium rare kind of guy.

One meal I recall with great fondness was pizza prepared by my father on Sunday nights.

A Chef Boyardee cheese pizza covered with a pound of sausage. I can smell and taste that boxed delight even now as I write. My father passed when I was 22, but I’ve had the great blessing of passing this tradition down to my son. We would dine on this very same recipe when he was but a lad.

Food holds such memories that take us back to wonderful times, enhancing the memories we cherish.

I hope your week brings many blessings, through the love of our God. I’ll be a speakin’ at ya next week. Until then, be safe and whip up something to eat . . . who knows, you may be creating a memory, you’ll look back on years from now.

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