I wish I could say I was a better chef yesterday, but I only baked a Trader Joe's burrito, while recalling three meals I regularly contribute from our Mt. Pleasant kitchen: The Crandall special, care of the boys, the Kentucky cake, care of Alice, and my Easter carrot traditions. Knowing I was writing for Stacey Joy (who lives and her teaches everything with her last name at the center), I channeled her prompt to write for her. The Mandingo words are from Liberia - words for vegetables, prayer, chicken, sauce, and rice contributed by the twins who were central to a dish that became a staple in my home.
It's Monday, the work ahead is impossible, and I get to spend my mourning in a dentist chair so my earnings can be traded for crown-recovery and repair (two teeth). I will go to my grave saying, "My mouth is worth more than I'll ever be," probably because of my eating habits (ha ha). There are too many cooks in this kitchen and, I know, I am a better man because of this.
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