It’s in the Head!
(or Is It?)

As I write this article, next week will be Thanksgiving. I am thankful, among many things, for opportunities and health to share meals with good friends and coworkers. One of the greatest honors for me is to be invited into someone’s home for a meal or be bought a meal in public. It is also a great honor to be allowed to purchase meals for friends. I have never purchased a meal for anyone that the kindness wasn’t returned many times over.

I have always been a picky eater. There are children whose parents make them eat everything on their plates, even if the children did not necessarily choose the items. My parents were not this type—I was never forced to eat what I didn’t like, though I was also taught not to “let my eyes get bigger than my belly”. I also learned that it was a sin to throw away food, as there were many who did not have the good fortune I did.

I grew up in what by some accounts was a dysfunctional home, but our family of three (two after my father died) always ate our supper meal at the kitchen table. After I became an adult, we evolved to what many families have done and traded the kitchen table for the television.

My food choices are based on several sense criteria. If food does not smell appealing, have a pleasant color, have good texture in the mouth, or taste good I do not eat it. I don’t like oranges because of the pulp, but I love orange juice. I don’t like grapes because I don’t like their texture, but I eat raisins. I don’t eat apples or bananas, for in the past I ate some that were too mushy, but I drink apple juice on occasion and particularly love artificial banana flavor.

Ms. Geneva Ailor once told me I just didn’t like getting dirty when I ate. She was so right, because I love fried chicken, though I hate getting the grease all over my hands and face.

Once I was at a conference in Nashville, and I called my niece who lived there and arranged to meet her for dinner. She was all about new experiences, and she suggested that we eat at a foreign restaurant that specialized in some exotic foods that did not sound in the least appealing to me. I asked her, “Don’t you know of any good steak houses or some places that serve good American food like pizza or spaghetti?” She managed to find us a place that appealed to both our palettes.

I am not great at trying new foods, though over the years I have developed a taste for foods I used to shun. One such food is coleslaw. I love the slaw at Captain D’s and KFC, and I try small bites at other establishments and homes before diving in. I like slaw with a more mayonnaise than vinegar base.

I learned a few years ago that a tablespoon of apple cider vinegar was good for the body. Just do an Internet search on vinegar, and you will find that it is reputed to be one of the great healers and preventers of bodily disease and preservers of food. Vinegar in other forms is also revered as a cleaning agent.

I have always loved dill pickles. One of my fondest childhood memories is a late summer evening with my niece Sheila from Cincinnati. We sat alone around the kitchen table and consumed a jar of hamburger dill chips, then divided and drank the pickle juice. To this day I strain and drink dill pickle juice, and I always think of Sheila and those fond summer memories.

And there are foods that I used to eat that I would no longer consider. At a young age I loved souse meat, sometimes called “head cheese”. According to Wikipedia:

Head cheese or brawn is a cold cut that originated in Europe. A version pickled with vinegar is known as souse. Head cheese is not a dairy cheese, but a terrine or meat jelly often made with flesh from the head of a calf or pig, or less commonly a sheep or cow, and often set in aspic. The parts of the head used vary, but the brain, eyes, and ears are usually removed. The tongue, and sometimes the feet and heart, may be included. It can also be made from trimmings from pork and veal, adding gelatin to the stock as a binder. Sometimes it is made with nothing from the head.
Head cheese is usually eaten cold or at room temperature.
Historically, meat jellies were made of the cleaned (all organs removed) head of the animal, which was simmered to produce stock, a peasant food made since the Middle Ages. When cooled, the stock congeals because of the natural gelatin found in the skull. The aspic may need additional gelatin, or more often, reduction, to set properly. (Retrieved November 18, 2019)

The older I got, the more the color of souse bothered me, especially when I got to thinking what part of an animal’s head that color most seemed to possibly represent. Souse is something I could not bring myself to eat today.

Then there are meals that I have never stopped loving. One of my very favorite meals is turkey and dressing. I have had two turkey and dressing meals at the Chop House in Fountain City during the past two weeks. I had a marvelous turkey and dressing dinner at the 33 Diner in Maynardville today, and plan to eat the same meal there tomorrow. I have plans to eat additional turkey meals at other locations and times throughout the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays at church, restaurants and homes with family and friends. I am in complete accord with Benjamin Franklin, who wanted the turkey to be the national bird of America.

The ideal turkey meal, to me, comes with dressing—not oyster dressing, just plain cornbread dressing. The one thing I don’t like in dressing is celery, unless it is chopped so fine that I practically don’t know it’s there. Mashed potatoes and green peas are essential, corn is optional, and other vegetables as available and desirable based on my own biased preferences.

As for Thanksgiving dessert, pumpkin pie is both traditional and delectable. There are other pies I prefer, in particular sweet potato.

Another of my favorite meals is spaghetti. Since the first time I remember eating this delicacy at my Aunt Roberta and Uncle Rob’s house as a child, my personal favorite for everyday fare is Chef Boyardee, ideally (for me) eaten with garlic powder and onion salt, topped off with cold homemade cornbread and store-bought buttermilk. My favorite spaghetti to eat in public is at The Original Louis Restaurant at 4661 Old Broadway in Knoxville, Tennessee.

And what is better on a cold, chilly day than chicken noodle soup, chili or vegetable soup with grilled cheese sandwiches?

I could not possibly discuss food without paying homage to the great staples of the South—soup beans, potatoes, and cornbread? I literally owe my life to these foods and the hands of my dear, departed mother who so industriously managed our meager household funds during my childhood to provide her own version of these country delicacies. These staples with sides of items she canned during the summers filled the bellies of each member of our family and many occasional visitors for many years. I doubt my mother ever spent more than a hundred dollars on food during any month of my childhood, but our table was never bare and no one ever left the table hungry except by their own choice.

I could go on, but my time and your patience do have limits. Let me close by saying that if any Faithful Reader is ever in need of a dinner guest, I will not be offended at an opportunity to slide my feet under your table. I’ll gladly repay the favor, but it will have to be at one of our fine local eating establishments since I am no cook. If I repaid you with a meal I cooked, I’m afraid it would be more insult than compliment.

Happiest of holidays to you and yours, Faithful Reader, and thank you for sharing weekly words once more with me. I leave you with a thought from email:

If a Vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a Humanitarian eat?