Millions of Americans have gained a few pounds since Thanksgiving. They'll add on a few more on Christmas and New Year's Day.
Cajun, Creole and low-country cooking are similar, I think, because they're culturally linked. I say it's not the common spices or pork seasonings but the diversity that makes these similar cuisines so delicious.
I'm not making light of Thanksgiving Day by suggesting we should be thankful for leftovers. To have enough is a feast. To have leftovers is a blessing of abundance, and that's what Thanksgiving is all about.
If my wife wasn't such a good cook, I'd be 50 pounds lighter. I'm not blaming her, though.
My English IV teacher, Reomia Unold, said ambrosia was the food of the gods. I disagreed and told her so. She shook her head and sighed.
I'm often asked why I don't write other commentaries. It's better to write about things you know about, and it's easier to do it when it's something most folks can agree on - like food.
Basic training in 1973 at Fort Jackson, S.C., was not a culture shock to me. Daddy was a Marine, so I grew up under strict supervision and was used to being dropped for pushups or called a maggot.
Back in the Stone Ages - before hot wings were invented to satiate armchair quarterbacks, and when pro-football games were on Friday, Saturday or Monday and did not interfere with Sunday church services - football fanatics chowed down pounds of cheese, summer sausage and tater chips during the game.
Sometimes at a public gathering someone will privately comment on one of my food columns. Most are kind, telling me how much they agree with my assessment of steaks, seafood or certain restaurants. Others tell me up front I got it all wrong about which is better - North Carolina, Georgia, Texas, Memphis, Kansas City or St. Louis barbecue.
The other night, I enjoyed a microwave corn dog.
You probably wouldn't notice the place if you passed it a hundred times, maybe on your way to Lake Mayer for a picnic, or coming back from a shopping trip at The Pig in Sandfly - unless you have an eye for Spanish and a taste for delectable baked goods.
Running a restaurant is hard work. Just ask Estella - aka Dr. Estella Edwards Shabazz, city alderwoman for Savannah's 5th District.
When my wife and I were preparing for our first child, we attended a bunch of classes about birthing. They told us our daughter wouldn't develop a sense of taste for the first year or longer.
Jams, jellies and fruit preserves always have been an essential part of what I considered dessert - a cathead biscuit smothered with butter and homemade jam, jelly or preserves.
I chose the infantry because I love being outdoors. For years, I shivered in icy arctic winds, roasted under a blistering desert sun, melted under a thick jungle canopy or suffered from hypoxia on some remote mountain top.
Salted sturgeon eggs ought to taste something like the mullet row I used to eat when I was a boy. But since caviar sells for about $50 an ounce, I'll never know.
Nearly 100 ladies from the Marne Community Spouses Club, Fort Stewart's all-ranks social club, met Jamie and Bobby Deen last week. Celebrity chef Paula Deen's sons took time out of their busy schedules to enjoy lunch with the group during a special event at Club Stewart.
The large billboard could be seen half-mile away when traveling north on I-95, near the town of Dunn, N.C. The colorful ad depicted a large dinner plate with two eggs over-easy, several slices of bacon and a generous portion of good ol' Southern grits.
It's hard to imagine that 240 years ago, American colonists drank tea - not sweet tea, but English tea.
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