Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Confessions Of A Food Snob …
Husband: Listen, when we get to the restaurant, please don’t start with the food critic stuff, Okay?
Me: What do you mean?
Husband: You know what I mean. Don’t say things like, “Ew, this came out of a can. This is too dry. This gravy came out of a package and they added water to it; how easy was that? This salad is prepackaged and it tastes funny. Gross; taste! - This salad dressing came out of a bottle. I believe this was pre prepared and frozen then shipped here.” THAT is what I mean.
Me: Oh, yeah … I'm sorry. I can’t help it. I’m just calling them on it. So, I’m a little picky. What’s so wrong with that?
Husband: You ruin it for me, that’s what is wrong with it. There I am, eating my dinner, minding my own business -- you sit there across from me and nine times out of ten, you start with the food critic stuff. It just ruins it for me.
Me: Okay. Fine. I don’t care how horrible it is, I won’t say a word.
Husband: So, where do you want to eat?
Me: You’re kidding, right?
A typical conversation between the husband and me on our way to dinner. I confess, I’m a little bit of a food snob. I believe it’s one of those learned behaviors I picked up along the way. My family, both sides, were in the restaurant business some way or another. My father’s family owned and operated the very first café in our town. My daddy used to have to chop the firewood for their barbeque pit when he was a little boy. I am a proud owner of one of the original tables in the café. They closed it down in the mid forties and my dad‘s family remodeled the café and lived there. My grandmother lived there until 1979 when she moved in next door to us. Wow, she had an awesome kitchen! My mother worked in a pastry shop for a while until I was born. She was the famous pie lady. She is best known for her chocolate pie - of which I have the recipe. My mama’s mother was a great cook. Her sisters, my cousins, as far as I know, all good cooks. Anyway, where were we? Oh, yeah, food! Like I was saying, I come from a long line of cooks. I’m not very good at many things but I take pride in my cooking skills. Thanksgiving is a favorite for us.
Here it is Thanksgiving eve. And, why am I blogging when I should be cooking? Because it’s already all done. All except for my pumpkin pies and mama’s banana pudding. Yes, the turkey is cooked and cut off the bone. The dressing and giblet gravy is made. All of the side dishes are nestled beside the turkey and dressing in my refrigerator. I didn’t lift one finger on this dinner. No, not one! My mom’s health just isn’t permitting her to go through the labor she so much enjoys in the kitchen. By the way, we knew this last year, too. My parents, bless their little hearts, didn’t want to burden me with the whole meal so we ordered the entire meal (minus the desserts which we did in our own kitchens) from a local supermarket. Guess what? It was horrible. The turkey was dry and tough. The dressing was dry AND it came out of a box and all the veggies were canned. (Imagine my husband’s delight with that dinner conversation, bless his heart.) Mama looked like she was going to cry upon discovering this so I whipped up a pone (that’s what we call it down here) of cornbread, sautéed some celery with onions and made some dressing using canned chicken broth. All in all, we managed to salvage our dinner last year but vowed that we’d never order our Thanksgiving dinner again.
Never say never, right? The picture you’re looking at up there is our Thanksgiving feast ordered from Bevelle Family Café. If you’re local and if you haven’t tried this southern comfort treat, I highly recommend it if you love true southern comfort/soul food. They're located smack in the middle of a BP Station. I kid you not! My family is the pickiest and we put it right up there with … ours.
PS - Thanks Glenda, for the tip. ;-)
Hope you all have a happy and safe Thanksgiving!