I am almost embarassed to write this piece.
Well...not just almost...I really am. But maybe
I will feel better...and go on to success in life...
Fact is, "I don't really know nuthin' about no
artichokes." It's true. My wife knows...but I
get bored and my wind wanders off into
cheeseburgers...and other healthful foods,
when she tries to explain about "chokes."
Now, my beloved granddad, "Pop" was a hard-
working successful cotton farmer down in
W. TEXAS, a century ago---just before I was
born...he walked behind a mule holding up a
plow...all day long...and then ate corn bread
and buttermilk...for supper...with onion mixed
in...
He had great gardens just across the little
rock fence from his domicile---you know, with
black-eye peas, corn-on-the-cob,
watermelons, cantaloupes , okra (just aching
to be fried), and sweet purple grapes nearby
in an arbor with shade fit for reading a book...
but he never grew no artichokes.
I was a gospel singer for twenty years and
sang in a least sixty-three revivals...and
ate several hundred (good) meals in
homes of church folks and we had fried
chicken one week (you won't believe) maybe
twelve or fifteen times---even for breakfast
once) ...but I never once't ate no artichokes.
I supplemented my income by doing
weddings, parties, receptions, and events
with my "small press" Koni-Omega. This
"friend" who had money and lived in a gated
community was having a big party of some
kind and she "hired"me to do the pics.
She said: "I'm having the Artichoke Cafe
cater it at $28.00 a person!" The she paused\
to watch me collapse in amazement. I went
and shot the party...but remember no arti-
chokes served.
Capping this whole tale is an event which
shows you my lack of social skills. We went
over to an especially nice dinner with some
people who belong to a "Gormay" (sic)
eating group. The menu as I recall was steaks.
There were these little cups filled with dip
with (I was told) artichoke leaves protruding,
making an attractive little green snacky
thingie. I dipped those leaves in the stuff and
began to eat them.
But they wouldn't chew-up...they were tough.
I couldn't swallow 'em. Almost choking, I
said to BE under my napkin: "These things
are tough...I can't swallow 'em."
She whispered: "Dummy, you're just
sposed to kinda rake your teeth acrost
them and scrape stuff off." "Oh," I said,
"just great." And I gave up on those
things and haven't touched one since.
What brought on this whole tale you have
been reading was a piece received today,
and included in it was a statement...
"California people know how to eat
artichokes." Hmmm...
I reckon us old Texas boys are just not
suave enough to know everything there
is to know, but if you want to go quail
hunting...I can take you.
------------------
BY MIL
15 JANUARY 2018
No comments:
Post a Comment