I was a fat kid at birth, 10 lbs and 13 oz, and I assume from baby pictures that didn't change much until I was able to run around like the crazy little blond boy I was. There is a story told about me when I was mere months old my mother was at McDonald's and I got a hold of one of those fries and with a death grip I gummed it into submission devouring my first solid food like a baby shark fights for survival in it's mother's womb. I had tasted victory, and it tasted like starch, salt, and vegetable oil.
I was an undefeated champion of food. I always made sure my plates were happy plates until one fateful day. I remember at the time I was living in Austin Texas in "The Blue House". We were sitting down to dinner, I remember we were having baked beans. I don't remember what else was on the plate, but I clearly remember those beans. I went to poor salt on them and the top came off and dumped salt all over the beans, much to the delight of my older sister. They were inedible, ruined, I couldn't eat them. However, at that very moment a thought occurred to me. I had a glimmer of hope. I had recently learned about the concept of opposites and since pepper was the opposite of salt they would cancel each other out. Genius! I thought. So I dumped the whole container of pepper into my beans to counteract the salt. Much to the dismay of my father. Sadly my genius plan had a small miscalculation. It turns out pepper is not in fact the opposite of salt. After my first bite I realized my mistake and protested loudly against the school system for their misinformation. Or perhaps more accurately I protesting the spoonful of salt and pepper with a hint of bean. My father now furious at my idiocy (he didn't take into account the high level problem solving skills I had just utilized) said that I had to eat all the beans with the salt and pepper in order to have dessert. I was determined to have dessert and tearfully I shoveled a second spoonful of bean flavored salt and pepper into my mouth. Sobbing into my beans I took a third bite now even saltier from the tears. This time it was rejected and there was nothing I could do about it. As it turns out human bodies especially small 5 year old human bodies cannot actually consume that amount of salt and pepper and survive. I was beaten. My reign of supremacy over food was at an end. To this day I do not remember the aftermath of the event. I will, however, never forget that salt and pepper are not, in fact, opposites of each other. Never Forget!
After a story like that one, you might think that baked beans became my food nemesis, but that is not the case. I don't remember exactly when I met him for the first time, my great weakness, my own personal Kryptonite of food, but we've had many opportunities to meet and when we do it is a hard fought battle where the outcome is not assured. This culinary equivalent of supervillainy is non other then the infamous Chinese Stir-fry. My parents owned a wok and they weren't afraid to use it on occasion. I hated that piece of cookware. I hated it with a passion. I'm sure the first time we met I stared at the self righteous smug excuse for a meal and perhaps poked it with a fork (we didn't use chopsticks. There is no doubt this is the only reason I survived. At the very least, I had a weapon I knew how to fight with.) I'm sure words were spoken along the lines of "Try it you'll like it, it's just vegetables and rice." I probably pouted and thought "Yeah right if it was just vegetables and rice it wouldn't taste like ..." I actually don't know what I would have compared it too because from that day forth the 1 in my 1 - 10 scale was defined. It was the worst imaginable taste, the antithesis of all that was good and holy in the world. It was my enemy. I rejected it. I would not eat it. I was sure of it. I promise you, to this day, my stomach will spasm at the thought of eating it. I remember the sad full plate pleading to be rid of it. The plate was unhappy and there was nothing I could do. I had no power to save it. The plate suffered, and I was impotent, that moment killed a small part of me that I will never be able to restore.
My memories of food aren't all bad. There were many great and glorious feeding experiences some involved my father's mother, our Mimi. I know many people have that grandmother so skilled in cooking she could make angels in heaven weep. I will not try to say that my grandmother cooked better then yours. I have no way of knowing, and it doesn't really matter. What I am saying is that the times we spent eating when visiting Mimi were without a doubt some of the greatest moments of my early life. When we would visit we would come in right before dinner time. It didn't matter what time it was when we showed up, because no matter what hour we got there it was about 20 minutes before the food was ready. She would have all four eyes of her stove cooking fresh vegetables prepared in the southern style. As I understand it southern style veggies are cooked with butter, salt, and love and to this day I'm not entirely sure what love tastes like. There would be ham, and turkey, gravy, dressing, rolls and the crowning food of awesome, the creme d'la creme, the pinnacle of perfection, the pear salad. I don't know where this particular treat originated, but whoever first stumbled upon it was either a genius or most assuredly mad. You take a leaf of iceberg lettuce and lay it on the plate, you then take a pear half and place it one the leaf. In the depression where the seeds have been removed you put a dollop of mayonnaise. Now, bear with me, I know what you are thinking, but we aren't finished yet. You then take a finely shredded cheddar cheese and sprinkle it on top. I know, I know it's madness but when you eat it you are revitalized. Your tongue sings sweet praises, and true joy is made known unto you. I don't know how. I don't know why. I don't question the mysteries of life, it just is. Now, after eating all that, multiple times, you are now eligible to approach the dessert tray. There were always a variety of confections, pies, and cakes to choose from. The ever popular lemon icebox pie, a pecan pie, pound cake with whipped cream and fruit, chocolate cake, cookies, fudge, and ice cream. You could pick and choose, or take a bit of each. By golly, you had earned it! This feast wasn't for the weak willed this was a spread for the mighty champions of the comestibles, and I was a champion.
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