Find Your Own Bologna
When Ben and I met, it was pretty clear we came from two different worlds, and had very different relationships and experiences when it came to food. A little bit about mine….
I grew up in a small rural community, surrounded by farm land, creeks, and knobs. There, we don’t eat tomatoes, potatoes, or cucumbers—it’s ‘maters, and ‘taters, and ‘cukes. And every meal has some form of ‘taters, or it simply isn’t a meal. Our vegetables are deep fried or pickled, and always served with a plate of biscuits or heap of cornbread. The food has soul, and has been made that way for generations. I learned to cook from my mother, who learned from hers, and so on. My grandmother was a stay at home Mom to a family of 7 children. She tended the house and garden, wrung chickens by the neck, and prepared three meals a day. Classic southern fare: there was always bacon or gut sausage at breakfast, usually a sandwich in the afternoon, and almost always something fried at supper. I recall my mother saying that when they were growing up, they always looked forward to Fridays because her father would buy a log of bologna and a sleeve of crackers (“AND PEPSI, Y'ALL,” my mother told me to include upon reading this. It was clearly a pretty big deal), and that meant they didn’t have to eat fried chicken and biscuits again…. Again?! My immediate thought, as a ten year old?—“Why in the hell would you want bologna instead of fried chicken? Fried chicken is the shit. Y’all were crazy.”
It wasn’t really until I left home and ventured out on my own that I understood what my own mother truly meant, and exactly how limited my own palette was. I was 17 the first time I tried Chinese food (I’m not even talking about authentic Chinese food, y’all—I’m talking about the shitty delicious American style buffet, that also served pizza and mozzarella sticks). I was 19 the first time I tried Indian food (I have since perfected my own version of chicken tikka masala, a crowd favorite). I was 22 the first time I tried Thai food (thought it was bonkers insane that people mixed peanuts and noodles). I was 24 the first time I had prosciutto (it was at a Museum function, and I was essentially like: “Wow, this is some really fancy country ham”). I think you can see the pattern here.
Over the years, my food horizons have broadened tremendously, and continue to grow every day. Don’t get me wrong, soul food is still the best. But now, I just do it with a little more flair.
If you’re finding yourself getting tired of the same old foods you’ve always eaten, and are just daring enough, we’ll help you find your own bologna.