My Favorite Food

In Over the Hedge, the creatures describe food as something that people think about all the time. They bring it into their houses themselves or have other people bring it in for them. Then, they get on exercise machines to forgive themselves for what they had eatten.

It is funny how important certain foods are to most of us. Some foods seem to be good angry goods. When we are angry at someone else ( or maybe at ourselves) , we load up on high fat foods like icecream and potatoe chips. We have a food orgie, trying to sooth our pain by rolling the inside of our bodies in cream, sugar, salt, and starch.

In the South food seems more important than any other place in the world with the exception of France. You can have a grilled cheese sandwich on the streets of Paris that makes you want to slap your mama and your grand mama. The same sandwich in London will send you in convulsions to the nearest trash can.

A comedian once said that the basics of southern cooking were grease, sugar, and alchohol. I might add that the grease she was referring to has everything to do with trans fats. Grandma's biscuits are not made with sunflower oil. Turnip greens, which by rights should be the healthiest food in the world, are cooked with fat back, which turns them from a low calorie green to a coronary nightmare. I guess when Scarlet ate that nasty carrot and swore she would never go hungary again, all southeners took that to heart.

As a southern woman, you are taught to make sure all your guests have sweet tea in one hand and a six course meal in the other. I guess that's why so many of us in the south have special comfort foods that get us through during the bleakest times. My husband who usually regards food simply as fuel even has one dish that warms his heart. I know when he is a little down I can always make him feel better with a plate of hot corn cakes. Every time I give him a stack with warm butter puddled on the top and slowly meandering down the cakes, he takes about how his grandmother use to make these especially for him. He would get mad at his Mom, sneak out of the house, ride his bicycle across town to his grandmother's. She would call his Mom and fuss at her for being so mean to him and then feed him a stack of corn cakes or coconut cake made with pineapple juice to keep the layers moist.

When I think about my favorite food, I just don't know. I mean I even like beats and brussel sprouts! I guess the food I would have to say gives me the most comfort is fried chicken. When the world has let me down, there is always the crispy brown chicken warm from the cast iron skillet. Why that particular food, I guess it reminds me of Sunday dinners, family, and a belief that on those really rotten days, you can go home again.