Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so passionate about food. It makes me either a picky eater or ‘the bish at table 7’ who keeps sending the servers back and forth for condiments to jazz up a plate void of seasoning or love, for that matter. The love means a lot- I know where to go for a meal cooked by an individual who actually enjoys cooking it. It’s an internal thing; I wish I could explain but since it’s a weird 6th sense I think I possess (said with partial humor) I’ll just continue to be falsely labeled [insert fake sigh because I really don’t GAF].
With all that being said, I don’t trust everybody’s cooking and it has nothing to do with them, personally. I’m just a snob. I only eat under formal circumstances like initial family dinners (but if the food ain’t slappin’ I’m not taking the ‘L’ next go round), holiday dinner invitations, baby showers/ bridal showers with home-cooked food presented satisfactorily (I blame that one class at community college that scarred me about food prep), “taste-testing for my new food venture” (don’t ask me for my opinion though), or anything along that very fine line. Finer than frog hair split three ways, fine. Like, ignore and delete the department potluck emails at work, fine. Like, only eat the dinner rolls and salad at the funeral repast…you get it.
So, in the name of all things snobby:
My soul and all of my ancestors are offended when I bite into some nasty cornbread. It’s not about the type of cornbread because I don’t discriminate (unless you place ACTUAL corn in there then you don’t eat food you graze like a damn cow). It can be cornbread made with yellow or white corn meal, ‘hot water’ cakes or even cornbread that looks like a sheet cake- fine with me! Just don’t allow your cornbread to be dryer than a toilet paper roll wrapped in a bounty sheet. The same goes for cake, too. Who-Raised-You?
*There was this one year when my mom’s beautifully decorated birthday cake tasted like cornbread and I was confused. I’ll tell you what I wasn’t confused about- eating the same baker’s cupcakes at a baby shower. Dodged that bullet!*
Potato Salad- why? Hell- seafood salad (imitation crab meat is an embarrassment to mankind).
And then you wanna serve it to me cold because it’s basically a vegetable yogurt (with SUGAR) that will give me the runs since it’s been baking in the hot sun at the cookout for 2 hours now. Ehhnn. OOH.
*Cole Slaw is an honorable mention, however, one day I accidentally ate some with a few baked beans and it was a weird marriage that I enjoyed like Bruce & Kris Jenner. I must revisit*
Sugary Grits- I don’t care how you make them- syrup, sugar, whipped cream with sprinkles,- it’s DISGUSTING. I grew up with a mean hatred in my heart for grits because I thought it came off of the cob sweet and was ground up to look like sugar’s first cousin. I mean, there’s such a thing as “sweet corn” so it made sense to me. Side note: that sweet corn casserole
shit is a hot mess too! As a youngin’ with a family that didn’t know any better, they consumed them with sugar and figured doing the same for LiLi would cause her to consume. It had the opposite effect and I shewed them away from my plate for years until I was introduced to Café Muse’s seafood grits about five years ago. That bowl of buttery, cheesy, savory fluffiness tastes like a mermaid was given legs for the sole purpose of creating and sharing that recipe. Since then I’ve eaten them faithfully but sometimes my mama forgets that I like them now and will leave out my portion for Sunday brunch (she’s a hater). Butter, salt & pepper works just fine but if I’m feeling fancy, pig ass and cheddar cheese with a side of indigestion, for the win! Keep your Cool Whip away from my grits 4 EVA!
Can we all just agree that Frank’s Red Hot needs to be a staple everywhere? Kudos to those who like “real hot sauce”- whatever that is because I don’t appreciate a small liquid taking over the taste of an entire entrée while assaulting my taste buds, so yeah- Frank’s is for the love of flavor. And it’s a damn good flavor that I like on my fried perch and my eggs, etc. Also, kudos to the gentrified spots that have “house made” hot sauce but not really because no Juan kurrs… where’s the FRANK’S?!
Do I even have to ask about chitlins? YES because eating intestines with the booty hole attached is a delicacy to summuhYAWLE. And pig feet, ear, hogmaw (because if you’re eating the ass and intestines then why not the stomach)? Even those who know the roots and history of why we as a people had to eat that mess for survival (along with crazy ass parts of the chicken like the liver and gizzards, my nucca), are aware that there’s a comfort in how it was prepared. Listen YT peepo- seasonings make the difference. Not to get all deep but the time, preparation and sacrifice to have scraps to eat during and post-slavery says a lot about the soul of our people to make ANIMAL ORGANS TASTY…
I almost lost my life for almost spazzin’ on my father for frying a chicken gizzard and placing it on my plate. My ten year old self wanted to backhand him for the disrespect and the gall but…we all know I wouldn’t be alive today.
Don’t judge me- judge ya drunk aunties for effin’ up your sense of taste. And your uncle for pouring those shots of Hennessy so he could stomach the food. And the Hennessy for being nasty but that’s another post that I’ll probably never write because it’s the drink of Black America but I digress.