Whataburger Trot Thru

Two women getting their food on at a Whataburger in Corpus Christi
appeared in the Corpus Christi Caller newspaper
Via Traces of Texas

Burgers, Texas-style.

Dinner with a Long Spoon

 My people tell a story about the great Ever After, one that reminds my mother of Sis. In the story, a rich and selfish man is condemned to hell, and is ushered into an endless dining hall. He sees a great banquet laid out before the assembled people there, a feast of dripping, roasted meats and savory soups and sumptuous stews. The devil's imps file down the table to pass out spoons, but the spoons are longer than the arms of the men and women gathered there. They cannot, as hard as they try, get the delicious food into their mouths, and a wailing and gnashing of teeth echoes and echoes through the great hall.

Meanwhile, in heaven, Saint Peter welcomes another new arrival, a common and generous man, into a similar great, long banquet hall. The newcomer sees another grans feast laid out before the diners assembled there. But, disconcertingly, the man sees the waiters pass out the same spoons as the ones passed out to the diners in hell, all of them too long for people to feed themselves. "How then," the crestfallen man asks Saint Peter, "can this be heaven?"

Saint Peter smiles.

"Because in heaven," he says, "we feed each other.

Rick Bragg, The Best Cook in the World

This is one of my favorite stories.

Stewed Cabbage and Perfect Validation

My uncle Jimbo is not a gourmet, or an unbiased and veracious critic; he once ate a bologna sandwich sitting on a dead mule, to win a bet, and can out-lie any man I have ever known. But he would tell her, hot tears rolling down his cheeks, that he has not eaten stewed cabbage that fine since his momma was alive. My mother never needed much validation beyond that, no grander praise.

Rick Bragg, The Best Cook in the World

From one of my favorite books which is family memoir, light-hearted history of family cooking, and a loving memory of his mother.

She does not own a measuring cup.

She does not own a measuring cup. She does not own a measuring spoon. She cooks in dabs, and smidgens, and tads, and a measurement she mysteriously refers to as, "you know, hon, just some." In her lexicon there is "part of a handful" and "a handful" and "a real good handful," which I have come to understand is roughly a handful, part of another handful, and "some.

Rick Bragg, The Best Cook in the World

Home Cooking

It is the food of the high places, of the foothills, pine barrens, and slow brown rivers. It is not something done by the great chefs of Atlanta or Birmingham for people who spend more on a table for four than a working class family spends on groceries for a month. It was never intended for everyone, but for people who once set a trotline, or slung a wrench, or rose from a seat in the ciety auditorium to testify during an all-night gospel singing.

Rick Bragg, The Best Cook in the World

As I've mentioned before, this is one of my favorite comfort books.

A richness for a people without riches

Soul Food

There is a reason why many black Southerners — and some white ones, like my mother — still call this kind of cooking soul food, because it transcends the pain and struggle of the everyday, a richness for a people without riches.

Rick Bragg, The Best Cook in the World

Le Dejeuner

Le Dejeuner, Henri Le Sidaner

I want to go to there.

We ate like we were somebody ...

"It was a hard life," she told me once, "but we ate like we were somebody a good bit of the time."

Rick Braggs, The Best Cook in the World

That's not only nourishing the body. The reality of food is used throughout the Bible to reflect God's spiritual realities. In this case, everybody is somebody worth a good meal and the love that goes into preparing it.

Baking Bread

Baking Bread, Helen Allingham

Snack with Fried Egg

Snack with Fried Eggs, Georg Flegel

Farm-to-table and flatbed trucks

She laughed out loud when she first heard the term "farm-to-table." They had it in her day, too; they called it a flatbed truck. She knows her food is not the healthiest, yet her people live long, long lives, those not killed by gunfire, moonshine or machines. She has never tasted ceviche or pate, but can do more with field-dressed quail, fresh-caught perch, or a humble pullet than anyone I know. With a morsel of pork no bigger than a matchbox, salt, a pod of pepper, and a sprinkle of cane sugar, she can turn collards, turnips, cabbage, green beans, and more into something finer than the mere ingredients should allow. With bacon grease and two tablespoons of mayonnaise, she turns simple cornmeal into something more like cake. I watched two magazine photographers eat it up standing in her kitchen, with slabs of butter. I do not believe they were merely being polite. "They even eat the crumbs," she said. "They were nice boys."

Rick Bragg, The Best Cook in the World

Every time I read this book, this makes me laugh out loud.

How and why to cook

'Now, just one more question, Mrs. Appleyard,' the Editor said, hoping she would break another cookie. 'I've heard it said that a well-known painter when asked what he mixed his paints with, said "With brains." Now do you feel that--to sum up what you've told me--people should cook with brains? May I quote you?'

Mrs. Appleyard put another batch of cookies into the oven.

'Brains are not enough,' she said. 'You have to like things: the dishes you cook with, the people you buy the butter from, the field where the crows fly over the corn and the wind that blows through their wings. You have to like the table you put the food on, and the people who sit around it. Yes, even when they tip back in your Hitchcock chairs, you have to like them. You don't just like how the food tastes--you like how it looks and smells and how the egg beater sounds. You like the rhythm of chopping and the throb of the teakettle lid. You like to test the frying pan with water and see it run around like quicksilver. You like the shadow in pewter and the soft gleam of silver and the sharp flash of glass. You like the feel of damask napkins and the shadows of flowers on a white cloth. You like people eating in their best clothes in candlelight, and in their dungarees on a beach in the broiling sun, or under a pine tree in the rain.

'You like the last moment before a meal is served when the hollandaise thickens, the steak comes sputtering out of the broiler, the cream is cooked into the potatoes and the last drop of water is cooked out of the peas.' Here she was silent long enough to take the correctly lacy and golden cookies off the pan. 'Not with brains,' she repeated, putting down the spatula. 'With love.'

Louise Andrews Kent, Mrs. Appleyard's Cookbook

A book I love to read over and over. There are recipes — which are fun enough on their own to read — but there are also wonderful pieces like this.

McAtlas by Gary He

McAtlas takes readers on a captivating journey around the world, offering a unique glimpse into the iconic McDonald's restaurant chain's adaptations to regional tastes and customs. This visually stunning book, featuring photographs and research from over 50 countries, serves as the first-ever independent cataloging of the brand's localization efforts. Discover how McDonald's tailored its menu items, restaurant designs, and overall experience to thrive in diverse cultural landscapes. With a keen eye for detail, the author unveils the fascinating stories behind the Golden Arches' global success. Immerse yourself in this comprehensive exploration of one of the world's most recognizable brands.

I remember taking our two young daughters to McDonald's on the Champs Elysee because our oldest really needed a dose of "normality" after being in Europe for a week. It turns out that it was American enough but we were bemused by the French culture that infused it - from the red wine to the beggars going table to table. It was an unexpectedly memorable experience.

So how could I not spend my Christmas money on this book?

This wound up being about more than McDonald's just by the virtue of seeing all the local variations. It was forced to please the natives to get sales and thereby became something more than a one-note global giant. I loved discovering all the attachments to each country's favorite cuisines, ways of eating, customs, and cultures. I learned a lot about how flexible McDonald's can be while still adhering to their basic menu structure. I've never wanted to go around the world before. Now I would just so I could visit all the McDonald's for the local food.

It is worth mentioning just how visually stunning these images are, especially the location shots. Equal care was taken with the book itself. You may not be able to tell it from the image, but the little white spots on the cover are embossed, rising above the surface to be the sesame seeds on the bun. The page edges are colored to mimic the structure of a burger — brown for beef, yellow for cheese, etc.

Fried Chicken

Das Backhändl, Eduard von Grützner

Just because I love fried chicken and like to see everyone enjoying it too!

Lagniappe: One of the happiest nights of my adult life

One rainy Sunday a few years ago, Isabel, Owen, and I decided to pass the afternoon by watching a DVD of The Fellowship of the Ring, that movie about hobbits and elves and Orcs that we'd been hearing about. One hundred and seventy-eight minutes later, during which we neither moved nor spoke, we looked at each other, eyes glazed. We walked straight to the car, drove to the video store, and rented The Two Towers and The Return of the King. It was getting on dusk when I pulled into the Kentucky Fried Chicken down the hill and bought dinner.

My kids were shocked. Happy, but shocked. What was going on with Mom? KFC? I wondered that myself. But we were hungry and the chicken was hot and we had five more hours of Viggo Mortensen to watch. Fifteen minutes after I pulled into the KFC, we were back on the sofa with the bucket on the coffee table, eating mediocre chicken and mashed potatoes and biscuits and watching The Two Towers. It was one of the happiest nights of my adult life and my children get dreamy and nostalgic talking about it.

[here we're skipping her description of making perfect fried chicken from a Thomas Keller recipe, which was eaten without comment by her family after hours of labor]

Soon I was left with plates of picked-over bones and a ravaged kitchen. One of these days I will forget the evening ever happened. I suspect Mark and our children already have. But that night we ate KFC on the sofa and watched The Two Towers? That, we will never forget.

Jennifer Reese; Make the Bread, Buy the Butter

This book is so entertaining. I appreciate the analysis of whether it is better to buy or make various standard food items — granola/make, Pop Tarts/buy — but I have never made anything from it. I have read it twice, however, because the author is just so darned entertaining. And honest.

Ancient Mesoamerican relief sculpture of maize

Ancient Mesoamerican relief sculpture of maize

Le Chef de L’Hotel

William Orpen, Le Chef de L’Hotel Chatham, Paris, 1921

Fajitas

 After today's quote, how can we not admire the artistry of this food and setting?

Swanson TV Dinner

Swanson TV Dinner 1963

We all know the best is the chicken pot pie, but I like the ad. It takes me back to a simpler time.

A Highland Breakfast

A Highland Breakfast, Edwin Henry Landseer