My English Paper....
I have a rather large family. I have five siblings. I also have four nieces and seven nephews which means we celebrate a lot of birthdays, communions, and confirmations. So my family gets together often. At these gatherings my family talks of food and of the gatherings of the past. The adults get to mingle and catch up on what has been going on. The children get to play with one another. Every family has a story to tell. My family is no different. Somehow the conversations all lead to my mother's eating habits.
My family loves food and whenever someone has a crawfish boil many family members show up. I always ask when the next crawfish boil is going to be and someone always brings up my mother's eating and cooking habits. Like what she used to sneak into the food she cooked or how she was raised on bones. The stories started when my older brother Jeremy found out what our mother really put in the turkey stuffings. My cousin Jennifer would say my mother was raised on bones and her mother was raised on meat. My cousin grew up believing that her mother was my grandparent's youngest and favorite so she got all the meat. Jennifer thought my mother only got the bones to eat.. My mother did get the bones to eat, but she also got to eat meat on occasion.
I do not think many people use turkey necks, gizzards, and other "parts" for everyday cooking. However, my mother is not just any person. My mother was raised to eat anything edible. My brothers and I ate anything our mother gave us until we learned what we were eating. Boiling crawfish is one of my favorite spring delicacies. My mom or brother boils every weekend. My mom boils the sacks of crawfish, corn, sausage, mushroom, celery, and potatoes. Then she has another special boil of her own. Most of us do not want to know what is cooking in that second pot. An elite group partakes in eating the pigtails, pig feet, and turkey necks. These are eaten separately away from the crawfish tables.
It is a miracle anyone dares eat some of the dishes she serves. But, suffice it to say, her cooking has built a tolerance for most edibles in my genetic cast iron stomach. While most children avoid vegetables, my brothers and I find it appealing to get brussels sprouts or cauliflower. At least we know what vegetables are and where they came from. My mom grows a garden all year long. Another part of the food story is about me. I was supposed to be born after my mother's tomato crop. However, I came early. My mom even gave me shallots instead of teething rings.
My mother eats bones and my stepfather has had to accept that. She no longer has to hide to eat the bones and now all the children save the bones for her. My mom does have to cook her chicken feet and pig lips separately from our food. Mom has also had to label containers in the refrigerator, ever since my stepfather found a container of chicken feet instead of red beans. It has to say "Wanda's Pieces Parts." The things my mom cooks taste wonderful as longs as I do not know what is in them. Our story may seem strange to other people, but to us it is part of what makes us a family. My family is like a pot of gumbo, it has a little of everything.
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Anyone going home this weekend, be back sunday.. talk to yawl later ttfn
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