Dean brought apples from his orchard to church today and offered them to anyone. I got a bag full and told him I thought I'd fry them.
He looked confused.
"Have you ever had fried apples?" I asked.
"Maybe," he said, "sometime".
This is the same guy who, when he was vice-chair of the Cluster Council, would have breakfast with me and Dick, the chair, the week before the cluster council meeting.
We met at a great restaurant in Durham that is now--sadly--a Fitness Center. Better food than weights and Zumba I say.
Anyhow, I found out in the 12 pages of the restaurant's menu, that they had grits. So I'd order them every time with my eggs and bacon.
Dick and Dean were confused. Both of them are too New England to believe in grits.
They asked me what grits were and I told them it came from hominy. Which was another question about what hominy was.
Finally I told them, "listen grits are a salt and butter delivery system."
That I thought they got.
I grew up with fried apples for breakfast and couldn't imagine everyone hadn't.
Well, except for Dean, I guess.
Fried apples, grits, sausage and bacon, home-fries, biscuits, eggs--the breakfast we'll have in heaven every day...with a little sausage gravy and some country ham on the side with blueberry jam.
Ah, that's the eternity I hope for....
- ► 2016 (291)
- The girls...
- The moon, the moon....
- Why email is a bad idea
- The worst news ever....
- A lot like work
- The 'collar' and 'cross' thing
- My Aunt Elsie
- Mary died
- Bye, Joe...We knew you well....
- What I don't understand
- Personal politics
- How time flies
- a bridge too far...
- The Washington Retreat Center
- The 'workshop'
- home again
- Some time away
- Run, don't walk...or better, drive
- An apology
- I love crickets
- fried apples and grits
- "Workshop mode"
- The 'subtle' is dead
- The Old Man's Puzzle
- ok, I feel ready
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